


Weapons of Mass Destruction

by Allora_Gale



Category: Code Geass
Genre: Angst, Gen, Spy Lelouch, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2013-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 14:59:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 95,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allora_Gale/pseuds/Allora_Gale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight years after the beginning of the invasion, Japan is still steadfastly at war with its Britannian invaders thanks to the skilful leadership of Genbu Kururugi and the dedication of a pair of boys with the potential to turn the war around.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Shed This Skin

**Author's Note:**

> Also posted on fanfiction.net

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This fic will have a dark tone. Fair warning in advance, there will be mention of attempted suicide and domestic abuse during the course of this story.

_Lelouch was cold. It was a sickening, creeping chill that seeped into the deepest parts of him, freezing his heart in his chest. This was dread. No, this was despair. This was despair and he was finally able to feel it. He didn't have to be strong for anyone now. He could just sink into the misery that had been trying to swallow him up for months._

_Nunnally vi Britannia was dead, killed by the soldiers of her own country. And with her, Lelouch vi Britannia died as well. He severed the last clinging ties he'd been keeping with his family. It was over. He was nobody now. Nothing. He might as well just die too._

_He closed his hands over Nunnally's delicate little bird-boned fingers, still unable to come completely to terms with the situation. Next to him, Suzaku was crying_ _—_ _big, fat, wet tears staining his cheeks red. Lelouch couldn't tell if he was crying too. He probably was, but the rest of the world felt numb to him, so he couldn't be certain._

_Nunnally had been shot by a pair of laughing Britannian soldiers. They'd seen them leaving. Maybe they'd mistaken her as Japanese since she'd had a low-brimmed hat obscuring her face. Maybe they just hadn't cared. It didn't matter. It was his fault anyway. He never should have left her alone._

_The only reason he'd left her was because it was faster and safer to go try to scavenge food without carrying Nunnally with him. He and Suzaku had been gone barely a half hour. So much shouldn't have changed in just half an hour._

_He didn't bother moving when he heard the first telltale signs of a Knightmare moving their way, the distinctive, heavy rifle fire drawing nearer by the second. He couldn't just leave her here. Better that he die with her than leave her alone again._

_“Lelouch, we've got to go.” Suzaku said quietly, tugging on his arm._

_“You go.” He murmured, not tearing his eyes away from Nunnally's face. If he ignored the gaping, bloody wound in her chest, she could almost have been sleeping._

_“Lelouch -” Suzaku began._

_“I said you go. There's nothing stopping you from leaving.” He argued, gaining a little of his usual fire._

_“You're stopping me from leaving. I'm not losing you too! Now come on, before it's too late.” Suzaku snapped._

_When Lelouch still didn't move, Suzaku punched him square in the face before forcibly hauling him up to his feet and away from Nunnally. From what had once been Nunnally. From what had been his little sister and all he had left in the world._

_“We can't just leave her like that.” He said numbly. She deserved a burial at least. He wasn't going to just leave her here to be trampled on or to rot in the middle of a Tokyo street. She was a princess of Britannia. She needed funeral processions and marble statuary memorials. She needed a national day of mourning._

_But Suzaku wasn't listening to him. Suzaku never listened to him. He was always far too concerned with his own stuff and ignored all of Lelouch’s stuff, which wasn't right. It wasn't right, but he didn't know how to fix it. Nunnally did though. . Nunnally had been both of their primary concerns._

_And now she was gone._

_Lelouch didn't know how long he let Suzaku drag him through the city. He was thoroughly disconnected with the rest of the world. It didn't even matter anymore. He was hot and tired and dehydrated, and they never had been able to partake of the food they'd gone out scavenging for. The pair of chocolate bars they'd managed to find behind the shelf in a looted convenience store were probably melting in the backpack Suzaku was wearing._

_He didn't know why they were running so hard. They'd probably die within the next couple days just from adverse living conditions, let alone enemy soldiers. And they were all enemies. Suzaku wasn't sure that the Japanese wouldn't shoot a lone Britannian boy-prince, but Lelouch knew for damned sure that Suzaku was too big of a threat for the Britannians to let live._

_There wasn't anywhere safe that they could go. And without a destination in mind, they were just running scared, playing perpetual hide-and-seek with armed soldiers who would probably shoot first and ask questions later. They might as well just give up._

_He didn't voice his thoughts though, too scared of earning another punch from his friend. Because Suzaku wasn't the type to give up. Not ever. It was one of his best qualities, actually. Suzaku was just too stubborn to quit, which had made all of Lelouch's petty victories in the past all the more satisfying._

_But he could already tell that this wasn't an argument he could win. Suzaku had his jaw clenched as he dragged Lelouch through wrecked buildings and body-littered streets. A clenched jaw meant that punches would come long before Lelouch was given the chance to change his friend's mind._

_Suzaku had just whipped them around a corner down an alley when a heavy, gloved hand fell on Lelouch's shoulder. He let out startled yelp, more because Suzaku hadn't seen this potential threat than because he hadn't in his grief stricken haze._

_Suzaku reacted instantly, automatically lashing out at Lelouch's captor and planting three swift punches in the man's chest and stomach. The force was enough to stagger the man back a step, but the soldier was wearing body armour and the blows did little damage._

_“Run, Suzaku!” Lelouch barked, giving up the fight. The least he could accomplish with his death was buying Suzaku enough time to get away._

_“Like hell!” Suzaku retorted, about to redirect his efforts to the soldier's more vulnerable knees when another man slipped out of the shadows of the alley and pulled Suzaku away._

_“We've found them, Sir.” The soldier holding Lelouch said into a radio in flawless Japanese._

_“Thank God.” Another voice said over the radio._

_Less than two minutes later, an armoured jeep pulled up to the mouth of the alley and a man they both recognized jumped out of the vehicle and hurried towards them._

_“Tohdoh-sensei!” Suzaku yelped in alarm as the man drew near._

_“What are you doing here?” Lelouch demanded. Tohdoh was one of Japan's most capable tacticians. He should have been planning a way to counter the Britannian invasion, not chasing after a couple kids downtown. Unless . . . unless that brilliant plan to turn the Britannians around involved threatening to publicly execute him._

_“I was sent by the Prime Minister. He's been worried sick about his son. And about you, Prince Lelouch. Kururugi-sama has promised his protection. We're here to bring you to safety.” Tohdoh explained._

_Lelouch swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. Here they were, elite Japanese soldiers sent to rescue him. Him, the son of the enemy. It was a feat his own father's soldiers had declined to even attempt. It was the Japanese that were here to protect him. The Japanese who were risking failure in the invasion to ensure that he and Suzaku were safe._

_“. . . Thank you.” He said quietly, thoroughly broken._

_“Where is Princess Nunnally?” Tohdoh asked._

_“She. . .” Lelouch began, but was unable to put the horrible truth into words. Suzaku grabbed his hand, squeezing tightly and it was enough for Tohdoh to figure it out. It surprised him when the gruff man reached for him, pulling him into an awkwardly comforting hug._

_“I'm sorry, your highness.”_

_His father had never hugged him. Not even when his mother had been killed and Nunnally had been crippled. In fact, he wasn't sure if he'd ever even touched his father before. Maybe when he was a baby. He'd seen the Emperor hold some of his younger siblings when they'd still been too young to move on their own. But that was it._

_It was strange that Tohdoh could hug him like this when his own father couldn't. But then, he was seeing more and more by the day that his father had a lot of shortcomings._

_“Sir, we have reports of four Knightmares closing in on this location from the East. We need to evacuate immediately.” One of the soldiers interrupted._

_“Take Suzaku-sama.” Tohdoh ordered the soldier next to Suzaku, before scooping Lelouch up like he was some kind of toddler instead of a ten year old completely capable of walking on his own. He shifted uncomfortably but didn't argue or flail when the man stood up and turned, running full tilt back towards the still idling vehicle at the end of the alley._

_He watched Suzaku over Tohdoh's shoulder, looking a little outraged a being manhandled and like he was about to throw a bit of a tantrum, but his friend was making a good effort at biting his tongue instead._

_He was thrown into the jeep next to Suzaku and three other soldiers, watching as the rest scattered into the surrounding ruins while the jeep executed a 180 degree turn and took off away from the impending Knightmare attack._

_It was a long drive to wherever it was they were going, made even longer by everyone's unwillingness to speak. There were occasional radio check-ins with the Japanese command post in the area, but conversation within the cab was completely stunted. There were only a few silent signals from Suzaku and his friend's reassuring grasp on his hand as they sat next to each other and wondered if they would ever actually make it to safety, or if they would be blown up before they ever got the chance._

_Safety had become a relative term over the last ten days and Lelouch doubted that he would ever truly be safe again._

_It was late when the jeep finally stopped, and completely dark until a lone flashlight lit up next to the car and Suzaku breathed a sigh of relief._

_“Dad. . .” Suzaku said, scrabbling to get his seat belt off and the door open. It only took a handful of seconds for Suzaku to get out of the vehicle and barrel straight into his father, who hugged him tightly in relief._

_Lelouch followed at a more sedate pace, uncertain of his position. He knew he was at this man's mercy and he hated the feeling. But he didn't want to be alone. Suzaku was the only person left in the world that he actually cared about and he couldn't bear the thought of being separated._

_“Prince Lelouch,” Genbu Kururugi said politely before his gaze travelled back to the jeep, looking for the other half of the Britannian duo he'd been saddled with. When he didn't find her, the man's gaze softened sympathetically. “We'll keep you safe, your highness.”_

_He nodded mutely and allowed Suzaku's father to clasp him comfortingly on the back of his neck before leading him and Suzaku into a small house with blacked out windows, nestled in the far countryside of Japan. He had no idea where he was, but it was probably about as safe as he was going to get._

 

_***_

 

_They hadn't treated him badly_ _—_ _yet. In fact, the Japanese had treated him with all the dignity and respect they would have treated Suzaku. It was an almost startling difference to the way he and Nunnally had been treated before Britannia had started dropping Knightmares on their country._

_But then that seemed to have a lot to do with the fact that Suzaku's mother had died in the strike that had separated them and Nunnally from the rest of the Kururugi family. Suzaku had only found out about it when they'd been reunited with the Prime Minister, and it had hit him hard. Lelouch wanted to be sympathetic, but he'd discovered that it was that woman's suggestion that had landed him and Nunnally_ _—_ _his crippled, blind sister_ _—_ _in a ramshackle old out building, more suited to holding rusty gardening equipment than royalty, for the duration of their stay as political hostages._

_He'd opted for remaining silently supportive as Suzaku worked through his grief. After all, he knew what it was like to lose a mother, that particular wound still deep and fresh despite the months since his mother had been assassinated at their home back in Pendragon. He hovered in Suzaku's shadow, and his friend knew he was always there if he needed him._

_On the first night they had been reunited with the Prime Minister, one of the young women who saw to the house they had commandeered had attempted to separate them. She'd claimed it was just to see Lelouch and Suzaku bathed and put to bed, but Suzaku had flipped his lid and since then no one had attempted to take Lelouch away from him. They slept together, bathed together and ate together; too afraid that being separated once would mean being separated for life. Even Suzaku didn't completely trust the adults not to hold Lelouch up as a sacrificial offering to the Britannians in return for sparing Japan._

_But Lelouch knew that wouldn't work. Britannia didn't care enough about him to stop their war just to ensure his safety. If they had, they would have sent a Knight to come rescue him and Nunnally before the invasion had begun. To the Britannians, he was just as disposable as the Japanese._

_He sat quietly next to Suzaku in the central command center of the quickly failing Japanese military, tucked in a corner and out of the way. They'd moved three times in the last four days, migrating to a supposedly safer location, or closer to a battle front so that Genbu Kururugi and his most trusted commanders could direct the battle personally._

_That was the case this time, and even now soldiers were laying down their lives to try to protect this country from its Britannian invaders. He felt it acutely whenever someone in the command center met his gaze_ _—_ _the stinging, shameful guilt. He was supposed to have been their guarantee that this wouldn't happen, but he'd really been nothing more than a decoy sent to lull the Japanese into a false sense of security. He mostly kept his head down and tried not to stand out too much._

_He was staring at one of the monitors showing a real-time schematic of the enemy's position over a map of the local area, thoroughly bored. They'd been told to stay there and be quiet, close enough at hand that they wouldn't be difficult to find and evacuate if the command center was compromised, but he was bored almost beyond belief. He could tell by the slight way that Suzaku was fidgeting that his friend was bored too._

_So he decided a quiet commentary was the best thing he could do for his friend. “See there?” He asked quietly, pointing toward the monitors, to which Suzaku nodded. “The Britannian left flank will fall back in a moment.”_

_Suzaku quirked his eyebrow. “How do you know?”_

_Lelouch shrugged, knowing Suzaku wasn't suspicious of him. “It's called the Garrus Phenk Manoeuvre. My . . . my mother taught me about a lot of Britannian military tactics. They're interesting. . . and can be used in chess.”_

_“You and chess.” Suzaku grumbled, turning his eyes back towards the monitor in time to witness the Britannian left flank begin to falter and fall back. There were a couple of excited exclamations from some of the command crew while Suzaku stared back at him in surprise. “You really knew!” He exclaimed, loud enough to earn reproving glances from a few members of the command staff._

_Lelouch shrugged. He'd always been good at remembering the lessons his mother had taught him, though he'd primarily demanded the lessons in order to have a fighting chance against Schneizel in their chess matches. His brother understood tactics that he'd never even heard of before, and it had been to his disadvantage. He'd been working on remedying the problem when the rest of his world had wrecked itself._

_“Dad,” Suzaku called loudly, trying to draw the Prime Minister's attention._

_“Not now, Suzaku.” Genbu grumbled, not even taking his eyes off of the monitor in front of him._

_“But Lelouch . . . he knows what the Britannians are up to. Something called a Garrus Phenk,” Suzaku persisted and it was enough to draw not only the Prime Minister's gaze, but that of the rest of the command staff as well. Lelouch slouched down in his chair in an attempt to make himself smaller and draw less of their attention._

_“Thanks a lot, Suzaku.” He hissed under his breath as he kept his head bowed._

_“Is that true, Prince Lelouch?” Tohdoh asked, regarding him with the intensity of a hawk looking at its prey._

_He grit his teeth. He'd only told Suzaku because he'd looked bored. Telling the rest of them would be treason. Telling them would be betraying his country. He was Britannian. He was a Britannian prince and his mother had drilled loyalty to his country into him at every opportunity. Her loyalty to the Empire had never wavered and she had served proudly, both as an Empress and as a Knight for most of her life. There probably weren't many who were more loyal to Britannia than his mother had been. . ._

_And they had killed her for it._

_That's right. Britannia had killed her. Britannia killed his mother and crippled Nunnally. As if losing their mother hadn’t been enough, they’d both been sent here after the assassination to suffer as hostages. And then Britannia had killed his sister as well. Why was he trying to protect them? Why was he hesitating after seeing all of the carnage the Britannians had left in their wake?_

_He swallowed nervously and slid off his chair, cautiously closing the distance between himself and the nearest desk. He swiped a handful of pens out of the pen holder and began laying them out across the surface of the desk in a rough replication of the battle positions on the screen. “Japan is blue pens. Britannia is black pens. This is what's going to happen.” He explained as he began moving the pieces across the desk. “They'll have a hidden force, probably a small strike team of Knightmares since you don't have much that can counter them, hidden somewhere around here to close in behind the soldiers who go after the collapsing flank.”_

_When he was done with his explanation, Tohdoh squeezed his shoulder encouragingly and went about setting up a counter to the manoeuvre Lelouch had just explained, should it actually be what was happening. Lelouch tried not to throw up._

_He was fully aware of what he'd just done. He'd just sealed his fate. He'd betrayed his country. Switched sides. And in doing so, he'd just made himself into a tool for the Japanese to use against Britannia._

_He was going to be used as a pawn again. But it was better to be used as a weapon against the nation that had betrayed him than as a mere bargaining chip by his father. And it was better than being alone on the streets fighting for his survival._

_He sat back down in his seat, tucking his hands under his legs so he could hide the way they were trembling. Suzaku grinned at him, no doubt pleased that they'd be gaining an advantage on the enemy because of him. But there was no way Suzaku would understand his turmoil right now, or the way he felt about betraying one of the foundations of his upbringing._

_So instead he sent Suzaku a grin in return and focused on not giving too much away. He didn't need to burden his friend with any more than what was already on his plate. Suzaku's country was being invaded and his mother had just died, along with Nunnally. He didn't need to worry about Lelouch too._

 

_***_

 

Suzaku didn't bother knocking before he opened the door to Lelouch's room. He never did and Lelouch hadwas yet to yell at him for it, so he let himself in, making a beeline for the desk chair as Lelouch slammed a sleepy hand down on his alarm clock.

“Morning, Lelouch.”

There were tears running down Lelouch's cheeks again, but Suzaku didn't comment on them, instead glancing away to give his friend the time to make himself semi-presentable. He was used to it by now. Lelouch didn't sleep well. He woke up crying about half the time, but it was better than the nights he woke up screaming. That had happened on more than one occasion, drawing frantic bodyguards into the room at the thought of it being an assassination attempt.

They were still on the run, after all. The Japanese government was still in hiding eight years after the initial invasion. It was a long and drawn out affair, but they wouldn't be giving Japan over to the Britannians without a fight. They'd make the Britannians bleed for daring to try to take Japan.

So the possibility of an assassination attempt wasn't completely out of the question. His father was a very wanted man, though Lelouch was not, as his existence had been kept more or less secret over the years. Those who knew of his existence knew him only by the name Kururugi Lelouch, and those who knew the truth of who he really was were either dead or sworn to secrecy.

Kururugi Lelouch. His adopted brother. Lelouch hadn't been able to shed the Britannia name fast enough. When his father had offered to adopt the displaced prince, Lelouch had only been too quick to agree and sever that tie with the people he had once called family.

“Time?” Lelouch grumbled sleepily.

“Five thirty.” He answered, knowing that his friend was about to groan and roll over in disgust.

“Another hour.” Lelouch groaned, burying his face back in his pillow.

“Dad wants to meet with you.”

That was enough to get Lelouch's attention. He cracked open his eyes, violet irises squinting at him in the early morning light. “At this time?” The ex-prince asked disbelievingly.

Suzaku chuckled. “He'll get grumpy if you take too long. He's waiting for you in his office.”

Lelouch let out a heavy sigh, half exasperated and half resigned before shoving back the covers of his bed and sitting up, running a hand through his dishevelled hair. “Did he say what it was about?”

“Nope.” Suzaku said cheerfully, earning a grimace from his friend.

“You're way too happy for this early in the day.” Lelouch grumbled as he reluctantly dragged himself out of bed.

Suzaku got up to give Lelouch the privacy to dress on his own and was almost out the door before he finally relented and revealed the primary purpose to his early morning invasion. “Oh, and Happy Birthday, Lelouch.”

Lelouch froze, pajama shirt pulled halfway over his head as he glanced toward the calendar hanging on the wall. Lelouch had forgotten it, but he always did. There were only two birthdays that Lelouch celebrated; Suzaku's and Nunnally's. The latter of which was less of a celebration and more of an excuse for Lelouch to show the grief that still haunted him every day.

“Thank you, Suzaku.” Lelouch said quietly enough that he almost missed it before going back to stripping off his sleeping clothes.

Suzaku shook his head but finished closing the door and let the prince have his privacy. He hadn't bought Lelouch a present for his birthday mostly because he knew it would only have infuriated him. The few times that he had bought Lelouch something for his birthday, he'd later found the gift unused and barely unwrapped in the top of Lelouch's closet.

Lelouch preferred if they could just spend the day together instead. Which, this year, they probably could. After Tohdoh-sensei's lessons of course. But Lelouch had those too, so they'd still be doing something together. It just wouldn't be very fun for Lelouch who, despite eight years of Tohdoh's harsh training regime, still hated exercise with a passion. It wasn't like he couldn't do the exercises that Tohdoh assigned to them, it was just that Lelouch would rather not.

Lelouch emerged from the room a few minutes later, dressed in a dark blue hakama over a matching coloured kimono. Suzaku still remembered that when Lelouch had first come to Japan, he'd refused to wear the traditional Japanese clothing, refusing to be seen in public walking around in what he'd called 'nothing more than a glorified bathrobe'. By now, Lelouch had been forced into the clothes so many times that they seemed almost more natural on him than Britannian clothes. However most days, when he didn't have to meet with the Prime Minister, Tohdoh, or anyone that he didn't kind of respect, Lelouch wore western styled dress slacks and a button down shirt.

“Dad really didn't say what he wanted?” Lelouch asked.

Suzaku had long since gotten over how weird it was to hear Lelouch refer to his father as 'Dad'. But it was something the Prime Minister had insisted on and a condition to which Lelouch had complied. Lelouch had once told him that since he hadn't been allowed to address his real father as 'Dad' anyway, he really didn't mind it.

“Probably just to wish you Happy Birthday.” Suzaku shrugged.

“At this hour?” Lelouch asked again, still grumpy about the wake up call.

“Your alarm was going off anyway.”

“I was going to hit the snooze button until six at the very least.” Lelouch griped.

“Well, you're up now. No use dwelling on it.” Suzaku shrugged again.

Lelouch scowled but remained silent for the rest of the way to their father's office. Suzaku slipped inside with Lelouch when he was bade to enter, more because he wanted to spend breakfast with his father than because he was curious about what the man wanted to say to Lelouch. His father didn't seem to mind the intrusion, more than used to the fact that they were nigh inseparable and had been since the invasion.

“Good morning.” Genbu said, slightly surprised. “I didn't expect you quite so early, Lelouch.”

Lelouch sent Suzaku a withering glare. “Good morning, Dad. _Someone_ told me you wanted to see me right away.”

Suzaku smothered a chuckle by helping himself to a piece of toast from the platter laid out on one corner of his father's desk.

“You two still know how to push each other's buttons, I see.” Genbu said good naturedly.

“It's a talent Suzaku has honed to an art form.” Lelouch grumbled. “Was there something you wanted to speak with me about?”

Genbu paused for a moment, eyes meeting for a moment with Suzaku's before turning his attention back to Lelouch. Suzaku tensed; this probably wasn't something he was going to be pleased to hear.

“It is your birthday, Lelouch.” Genbu explained as he slid a small velvet box across the desk towards the prince. Suzaku wondered what the hell he was doing. His father knew Lelouch's attitude towards birthday gifts. “And it's an important birthday. You're eighteen now. An adult. I wanted to talk to you about your future.”

Lelouch took the gift, gracious enough that he knew how to accept them, if not use them, and bowed his head over it as he went about unwrapping it as a means of avoiding their father's gaze. It was a watch. A pocket watch, to be precise. It was a tradition in their family. Young men on the cusp of adulthood were always given a watch. Lelouch's was shiny and new and clearly expensive. It was markedly different from the family heirloom Suzaku would receive in a few months, but it was still a good gesture. Lelouch was still one of them. Family.

“You've been slowly taking on more and more responsibility over the last three years. You're in charge of your own spy network at the moment, with Britannians you've won over to be sympathetic to our cause, and half-Britannians you've placed in important positions in Britannian society. It's been very good work, Lelouch. And -”

“Dad . . . ” Lelouch interrupted. “Kururugi-sama,” Lelouch corrected himself, finally looking up from the watch. His jaw was clenched tightly, so Suzaku knew that he didn't really want to say what he was about to say. “I am not your son. I am a tool in your arsenal. One that you've shaped and cultivated over eight long years. You don't need to win me over with gifts and speeches. I owe you my life and you've been nothing but kind to me since you took me in. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

Genbu was quiet for a moment, hands clenching into fists briefly before he let them relax. “I don't think of you that way.”

“Regardless, it's what I am. I am the son of the enemy. Without your constant protection, it would only have been a matter of time before someone killed me. Your advisers and command staff only went along with you taking me in because they expected me to be useful later. And I'm willing to be useful to you. So tell me what you want me to do.” Lelouch explained.

Suzaku shifted awkwardly. He'd always known that Lelouch had held himself slightly apart from the rest of the family, but he'd thought it was because it felt awkward being the only Britannian. He didn't know it was like this. He didn't know that Lelouch had been holding himself apart because he thought he didn't actually belong.

Lelouch was his brother. He didn't care that Lelouch had once been a prince of Britannia. All that mattered was that they had grown up together as brothers. And he knew his father felt the same way about Lelouch. To Genbu, Lelouch was a son, not just some weapon they were waiting to bring to bear on the enemy.

That didn't mean they didn't have great hopes for Lelouch. Lelouch was a genius after all. He could keep up with Tohdoh, even give the General a run for his money, in terms of strategy. He could charm almost anyone into giving him the information he needed. And he always knew just what to say or do in order to get his way.

Lelouch would be an incredible weapon against Britannia. The same way Suzaku would be an incredible weapon against Britannia thanks to his superior piloting skills in the Burais and his martial arts skills. Just because he'd be useful didn't mean they didn't love him.

“You'd better wear that watch, boy.” Genbu finally said, leaning back in his chair to level a disapproving frown at Lelouch. “I wouldn't give something like that to just a tool in my arsenal.”

“Yes . . . Dad.” Lelouch said, their father's steadfast stubbornness enough to put a crack in Lelouch's resolve. Suzaku could understand that. Lelouch wanted to be a part of their family, even if he didn't think he deserved it.

There was a long minute of silence between them as Genbu mutely examined his adopted son. Finally, he sighed. “Tell me what you want, Lelouch. I won't force you to serve if you don't want to.”

Lelouch hesitated, toying with the pocket watch in his lap before finally nodding to himself and meeting their father's gaze. “I want to destroy Britannia.” He said firmly. “And I'll do whatever you need me to do to make it happen.”

“Even if it means leaving here and infiltrating Britannian society?” Genbu asked.

“Yes.” Lelouch answered immediately. “You want me to become like one of my spies?”

“Your heritage gives you the unique opportunity to recruit people who wouldn't otherwise be sympathetic to our cause.” Their father explained.

“Do you have a particular target in mind?” Lelouch asked. Suddenly it wasn't about whether Lelouch belonged or not, or whether he was being used. Lelouch had regained the scheming spark in his eye that meant he was interested in his work.

Genbu reached inside his desk drawer, pulling out a manila folder which he slid across the desk to Lelouch. Lelouch snatched it up immediately, flipping it open for all of half a second before tossing it back onto the desk. Suzaku cocked his head and glanced at the photo of the man inside the folder. He'd seen him a few times on the television. He was a high ranking military officer in the Britannian army.

“Are you serious?” Lelouch demanded incredulously. “Jeremiah Gottwald? He's the leader of the Purist Faction. He _hates_ the Japanese.”

“He used to serve on your mother's Royal Guard. We have intel that he still feels guilty about her death.” Genbu explained.

“Good. I hope it eats at him for the rest of his life.” Lelouch growled. “Did you forget that he just joined Clovis' Royal Guard last year? Since then, the Purist Faction has gained even more power and has become even bolder. They're practically dictating policy to Clovis now.”

“Which is precisely why we need him on our side.”

Lelouch huffed before slumping back in his chair and burying his face in his hands for a moment. It was Lelouch's thinking posture. When he didn't need to guard his thoughts, this was how he sat.

“If he recognizes me for who I am, it's likely he'll tell Clovis that I'm still alive. If Clovis finds out I'm alive . . . they'll take me back to Pendragon.” Lelouch said slowly.

“So tell him not to tell anyone.” Suzaku grumbled. He'd seen Lelouch work on people. By the time he was done with them, they were practically putty in his hands.

“It's still risky.” Lelouch countered.

“I know it's risky, Lelouch.” Genbu said. “But we really need someone with access to power right now.”

“I'll do it, of course.” Lelouch said. “But I want the freedom to do it my way.”

Several of Lelouch's previous recruitments had been done under the supervision of Mori Akihito, Japan's lead intelligence commander. Mori had never been exactly pleased with having to deal with the Prime Minister's clearly Britannian adopted son, and had butted heads with Lelouch more than once.

“That's fine. I trust you.” Their father said.

Lelouch paused, glancing down in embarrassment. “Thank you.” He said softly before clearing his throat. “Was there anything else?”

Genbu shook his head and Lelouch nodded stiffly. “Then, if you'll excuse me, I'll go get started on this.” Lelouch said, scooping the folder up before heading for the door.

Suzaku watched him go, somewhat in surprise. Lelouch hadn't even eaten anything. But then again, Lelouch ate like a bird, so it probably wouldn't affect him much.

His father sighed. “Lelouch is still as stubborn and distant as always. 'I am not your son.' _Che._ What the hell does he think I've been raising him for?”

“He's just scared of getting close to people.” Suzaku hedged. It had been eight years. Lelouch should at least trust his father by now.

“Not to you.”

“That's different. I'm the only one left that was with him before Nunnally . . . ” He tried to explain. It was a bit of a heavy burden knowing that he was the only person tying Lelouch to this life. That he was the only person Lelouch cared enough about to fight for.

“Keep an eye on him, Suzaku. I'm willing to let him do things his own way, but Gottwald is dangerous. Especially to Lelouch. I don't want to lose him.”

“Sure. Does that mean I'm supposed to help him?” Suzaku asked. Usually they tried to keep him out of Lelouch's official duties. His presence wasn't exactly secret to the Britannians, but they didn't know what he looked like. All they knew was that Genbu Kururugi had a son that they were grooming to become the next leader of Japan.

“I'm sure you'll find a way to weasel your way into his operation. You usually do.”

Suzaku laughed sheepishly. His father wasn't exactly supposed to know about that.  


	2. An Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This fic will have a dark tone. Fair warning in advance, there will be mention of attempted suicide and domestic abuse during the course of this story.

_“Again, Lelouch-sama.” Tohdoh said, as sharp and merciless as ever. There was no quarter given just because he was a prince. No consideration of the fact that he had never before heard of these exercises the man wanted him to do, unlike Suzaku who had been learning martial arts all his life. He was simply expected to complete the tasks that had been assigned to him – to excel at them._

_He suppressed the glare he wanted to send the man and tried, once again, to perform to his teacher's expectations. Much as he wanted to complain, he was still at their mercy. The Japanese could choose to get rid of him at any time and he knew perfectly well that if he ever stepped too far out of line they'd be only too quick to dispose of him. He was a prisoner of war, even if his cage was gilded. Still just a hostage._

_“Rest your weight on your back foot.” Tohdoh ordered._

_Lelouch hated these lessons. Unfortunately, they were not only mandatory but an almost everyday occurrence. Tohdoh was quickly earning recognition as Japan's best tactician, and had earned himself a place in the Prime Minister's entourage, along with a new promotion. He was kept close so he could win the Prime Minister's battles for him, a task he'd taken to with fervour._

_In addition to winning the war for the autonomy of Japan, Tohdoh had also been tasked with the education of Suzaku and himself. For an hour every morning – or at least mornings in which they weren't actively at war – Lelouch was left to the mercy of a man who demanded nothing less than perfection._

_He hated Tohdoh in the mornings, when he was forced to make his body move in unnatural ways for an unforgiving taskmaster. However, he was quickly learning to enjoy the evenings when Tohdoh would sit down and talk strategy with him. Those lessons didn't require him to exert himself until his bones felt like jelly. They reminded him of the lessons he'd had from his mother, and the man treated him less like an unruly child that wasn't listening to his instructions and more like someone with a modicum of intelligence._

_“You're not concentrating.”_

_Lelouch grit his teeth. Yes, he hated Tohdoh in the mornings. But he didn't completely hate the man._

 

_***_

 

He'd tried to bail on his lessons with Tohdoh, but to no avail. He was eighteen now. A legal adult. He ought to have been able to decide for himself just what was a useful draw on his time. And if he didn't want to go to the General's custom phys. ed. class, he shouldn't have had to.

Tohdoh thought otherwise.

The General's word was law even now, though that wasn't necessarily surprising. The entire military jumped to fulfil the man's orders as soon as they were uttered. He was the hero of the nation and the only reason they'd been able to hold out against the Britannians for so long. Hokkaido, the last bastion of free Japan, was still in their hands because Tohdoh had been able to counter the Britannian advance despite lacking firepower and resources. The rest of Japan had been lost to them. For now, at least. They were determined to reclaim it.

“Dismissed.” Tohdoh said to the sweat-soaked former prince, earning a surprised eyebrow raise. It was ten minutes early. At least, by Lelouch's calculation it was ten minutes early. The General's idea of a birthday present, he supposed.

Lelouch bowed respectfully and gave his thanks before excusing himself to go shower and change. At least the General knew better than to try to foist material gifts on him. It was a lesson he thought Genbu had learned before now as well, though it seemed he had been mistaken.

He returned to his room and to the pile of neatly folded clean clothes waiting for him, with the pocket watch sitting right on top. He ran his fingers over the smooth cover before snapping open the hunter's case to examine the Kururugi name engraved in kanji on the inside.

What had the man been thinking when he'd given this to him?

_“I wouldn't give something like that to just a tool in my arsenal.”_

Wouldn't he? Wouldn't he try to draw him in and catch him off guard, so he could slip past all of Lelouch's defences? It's what Lelouch would have done. Make the enemy's child feel like he was accepted and belonged so that he could turn him into a perfect weapon to be used against his own people. Well, the Prime Minister had already been successful in that attempt. He held no love for his Britannian family.

But the Kururugi insignia was a bit telling. Genbu could have made the gesture without that particular detail and it would have lost none of its potency. It would still have been a Kururugi family tradition. Why had the man felt the need to mark him like this? To claim him as one of his own?

“What do you want to do today, Lelouch?” Suzaku asked, barging into his room like usual. He was freshly showered and dressed already, while Lelouch had wasted time contemplating the damnable watch Genbu had given him.

He dropped the offending device onto his desk and turned away to find something more comfortable to wear than the hakama he'd had on earlier that morning, or the kimono the maids had laid out for him. “I should start gathering intel on Gottwald.” He answered.

“Not today.” Suzaku argued. “It's your birthday. You don't need to work on your birthday.”

“It's important, Suzaku. If I can sway Gottwald, I can _literally_ manipulate the outcome of this war.” He countered. He wasn't in the mood for Suzaku's misguided attempts at cheering him up or creating an ideal birthday experience for him, or whatever the hell it was that Suzaku was trying to do.

“Not. Today.” Suzaku said more firmly. “He can wait another day.”

Lelouch paused before shrugging. “Fine.” He conceded. He always did. Suzaku was the heir. One day, Suzaku would lead Japan. He couldn't afford to have opposition in his own house. Especially not from the position Lelouch was in.

He'd never been officially made into one of Genbu's heirs, but he had been adopted. And he was older than Suzaku. If it was his desire, he could contest Suzaku's inheritance. Not that he ever would, but the threat of seeming too presumptuous or too overbearing had been hanging over his head for eight years now – just another consequence of Genbu taking him in. He deferred to Suzaku in almost all things.

“So, what do you want to do?” Suzaku asked again.

He shrugged. “Whatever is fine. I'm not really bothered.”

If he was honest with himself, what he really wanted to do was go visit the memorial they had made for Nunnally. But he had some hope of getting some actual work done after he'd appeased Suzaku's need for celebration, and he probably wouldn't be in the right frame of mind if he went to see her. They never had recovered her body, but Genbu had made her a memorial not too far away once things had settled down a bit and they'd been able to stop running for their lives every day. It was the only gift he'd ever gratefully accepted from the man.

“Let's go see Nunnally.” Suzaku suggested.

He hesitated. But he couldn't very well say that he didn't want to. He nodded mutely before gathering up his new clothes and disappearing into his private bathroom. In ten minutes he was clean, dressed and ready to go. He swiped his still damp hair out of his eyes as he followed Suzaku out of the massive complex that served dually as the Japanese center of government and the Kururugi residence.

“My Lords.” The guard at the gate said, bowing formally as they passed, and foregoing the supposedly required insistence that they didn't leave the manor without bodyguards. Both of them had flaunted their disregard for the rule enough times that the guards didn't even try to stop them anymore.

Besides, thanks to Tohdoh, they probably knew how to take care of themselves better than most of the guards anyway. It was the silver lining. If he had to suffer through Tohdoh's lessons, at least he got to skip out on a constant chaperone.

“Want to walk or take a car?” Suzaku asked.

Lelouch glanced up at the sky and considered the question. The sky was grey and overcast, looking like it might snow. “Drive.” He decided. It was about a twenty minute walk to the place where Nunnally's memorial was tucked away, and he didn't want to be caught outside if the weather turned sour.

“Sure.” Suzaku nodded. “You're the boss. For today only.” He tacked on with a teasing smile.

“In that case, I'll go back and do my work.” Lelouch countered, though it was halfhearted at best. He wanted to go see Nunnally. He hadn't been there for a few months now.

Suzaku sent him a dirty look before leading the way toward the garage, knowing without checking that Lelouch would follow. There was an easy camaraderie between them, even though they regularly practised annoying each other (though Suzaku was by far the more persistent in this pursuit).

It wasn't until they had entered the secluded little grove that housed Nunnally's memorial that their positions switched. Suzaku had been extensively trained to take authority. He always led the conversation, walked ahead of people, took command of every situation. It had been so ingrained into him that he didn't even notice that he behaved that way even to Lelouch.

But in this place, it was different. In this place, Lelouch was lord and master. His word was law on anything that involved Nunnally's resting place and Suzaku subconsciously followed the distinction by falling back and letting Lelouch lead.

There was no need for words or signals. They just knew. They had a mutual respect for each other's domains. Suzaku might reign supreme everywhere else they went as the heir of Japan, but this was Lelouch's kingdom – however small it might be.

Nunnally's memorial was nestled in a secluded patch of trees, like her own secret garden. She'd never been here, but she would have loved this place with the lilac trees that he'd planted personally, and the shade the sakura trees provided. When it was in bloom, all of the trees looked like they were covered in pastel pink and purple snow. He could feel her spirit here, if that made any sense. When he was here, he could feel her presence like a soothing balm to his soul, or a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“Nunnally.” He greeted softly, running his fingers over the head of the granite angel that stood in this spot, bearing a remarkable resemblance to his sister. It was too risky to have the name vi Britannia here, but the statue looked just like her and it was marking enough. “I miss you. And mother, of course. Say hello to her for me. I love you both.”

If they could hear him, they would know that he hadn't forgotten about them. That he'd never forget about them.

He sank down into the still lush, if somewhat damp grass and stared up at the cloudy sky while Suzaku offered his own greeting. For once, he felt at peace. For once, he didn't sit waiting for the other shoe to drop, or for someone to decide that they'd sheltered a Britannian prince for long enough. Here, none of that mattered.

 

***

 

Jeremiah Gottwald was not a man that was easily cowed. He had recovered from what could have, and frankly should have, been the disgraceful end of his military career, and had made something of himself. He'd founded the Purist Faction after Prince Clovis had implemented the foolish Honorary Britannian system and had systematically opposed its implementation for six years.

Eventually, he'd gathered enough support and power that even the prince had had no choice but to come around to his point of view. It had been a stupid idea to from the start. As if granting citizenship to the Numbers would actually make them bow. No. There was only one way to make an Eleven submit, and that was by putting a gun to its head. They were recklessly overconfident and proud, every last one of them. It was only by threatening their lives that they accepted the right of the Britannian Emperor to rule.

It was by implementing this policy that he had a greater number of victories than any other commanding officer in Area Eleven. Show no mercy, give no quarter, and be as ruthless as necessary. And finally, after seven years, his hard work had paid off last year. He'd come full circle and regained his place on the Royal Guard of a member of the Imperial family.

Prince Clovis had none of Empress Marianne's charm or passion, and cared more for his dramatics and socializing than the actual war effort, but he was fifth in line to the throne and Jeremiah was an ambitious man. If he won this war with the Eleven's, he'd gain Clovis honor and prestige. Since the succession of the Britannian throne was based on merit rather than order of birth, Clovis could become a direct contender for the throne.

With Clovis as Emperor, it was only too likely that he would be made a Knight of the Round. He practically owned Clovis. General Bartley might hold the official command of the forces in Area Eleven, but Jeremiah held their loyalty – a fact the good General was none too pleased with. With the control of the military in his hands, even Prince Clovis didn't oppose him.

“How is it, Jeremiah?” Clovis asked, gesturing to the plate in front of him.

“Very good, your highness. As always, simply dining at your table is a cause for excitement.” Jeremiah answered, appropriately sycophantic.

It was the truth. If nothing else, Clovis had made certain that his table spread was legendary. He had the best chefs in the Empire in his kitchen. With the threat of being fired and replaced with someone new if they ever made something disagreeable, the spirit of competition and preservation kept the table's standard exquisitely high. He'd never had a better meal in his life.

Except, perhaps, the one occasion on which Empress Marianne had made him a sandwich. But that judgement was based more on sentimental reasons than actual flavour. He'd been standing guard while the Empress and her children had been having a picnic, and he'd had the embarrassing misfortune to have his stomach growl. He'd missed breakfast because of some other errand and hadn't been able to eat before his shift had started. Instead of looking annoyed or awkward, she'd simply thrown together a sandwich before whispering in Princess Nunnally's ear to have the girl bring it to him.

He was sure he'd never had a better sandwich before in his life. He was sure he never would. But the meal at Clovis' palace wasn't a sandwich and therefore didn't count as competition.

“Excellent.” Clovis said, pleased with the compliment. Jeremiah hadn't gotten to where he was by being a gruff, uncultured military commander. He was a refined gentleman. A true blue blood. He knew the finer things in life, but he also knew what it was like to kill a man with his bare hands, or to run into a situation blind and just hope to hell he had more bullets than his enemies. It was the breadth of his life experience that made him so invaluable to Clovis. “Tell me, how is the war coming along?”

Clovis said it like he was asking about the crocuses in someone's garden, or about the placing of his favorite sport's team in the league that season. He bit down on his immediate distaste of the prince's tone and smiled instead.

“They're dug in deep on the northern island, but they haven't been able to advance at all either. We've shored up our northern borders, anticipating an attack, but thus far it hasn't happened. It's likely that they realize reclaiming Honshu and the other islands is now impossible and have devoted their resources to protecting Hokkaido instead.” He updated.

The situation hadn't changed for three months now. Not since the Japanese's last attempt to take the main island had resulted in an overwhelmingly one-sided Britannian victory. He was hesitant to call the situation stable, on the chance that the damned Japanese hadn't actually given up, but Area Eleven was established and thriving, except for the miscreants on the northern island. The Sakuradite mines were booming and public insurrection from the Elevens was minimal at best. The place had been subdued.

Not that that was enough to appease him. He wouldn't rest until he'd hunted down the Japanese administration and exterminated them. Doing a half-assed job here wouldn't win Clovis the influence he needed to succeed the throne. But for now he could admit that he was stalled.

He may not like the Japanese, but he could concede to the point that they'd pulled off some pretty spectacular victories over the years. The work of a single man, he was sure. If he could take General Tohdoh out of the equation, he was sure he could put down the Japanese resistance and take Hokkaido.

He just had to get his hands on the man.

“Do you have an estimate for when it might be over?” Clovis asked, swirling the wine in his glass. “As exciting as it no doubt is for you, I'm looking forward to the end of it.”

“I understand your impatience, your highness, but it's impossible to accurately predict an end to this conflict.” Jeremiah answered, admirably masking his annoyance at the question.

“General Bartley has promised me a final and decisive victory by the end of next year.” Clovis said slyly, watching for Jeremiah's reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“Of course the General did. He'd say anything to gain your favour.” He answered.

“And you wouldn't?” The prince asked.

“No, my prince. I tell you the truth. And the truth of the situation is that we don't even have a foothold on Hokkaido from which to launch a final assault. Without that, we're in a stalemate.” He answered.

It wasn't the answer Clovis wanted to hear, but he wouldn't have to explain himself later when it became apparent that a victory by next December was impossible. Bartley was grasping at straws. Even if they got their foothold in Hokkaido, it would probably take more than a year to eradicate the resistance from the rest of the island.

Clovis frowned, more than halfway to a pout, before sighing and taking a sip from his wine. “Then get me a foothold on Hokkaido.”

“I will, your highness.” He promised.

It was a promise he would make good on, but he wasn't going to give himself a time limit. That was the most sure-fire way to get yourself sacked he'd ever heard of. Many of his predecessors had made the same mistake. In fact, the entire invasion of Japan was only supposed to last a couple months at most. And yet here they were, entering their eighth year of what was probably the bloodiest war the Empire had seen since the exodus from England.

He was committed to putting an end to it, but he wasn't going to rush in brashly and make promises he couldn't keep.

 

***

 

Lelouch was devotedly at work in his study, sifting through documents and video footage of his newest target. Suzaku knew he would have been in there all day if he hadn't insisted they go see Nunnally. Lelouch was always like that. He always worked himself to the bone, as though he had something to prove.

Which he didn't.

Their father would have accepted him just as easily even if Lelouch wasn't one of the brightest people in Japan. But then again, just because their father accepted him, it didn't mean that everyone else did as well. He supposed Lelouch was fairly wise to always be working. No one could doubt his dedication to the Japanese cause, even if he did still occasionally come up against opposition based on his ethnicity.

Suzaku sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as he rested against the door jamb and watched Lelouch work. He seemed . . . okay . . . today. Birthdays were always hard for Lelouch. Birthdays and Christmas and Easter – any occasion that was supposed to be celebrated with family. Although his own birthday never seemed to both him as much as Nunnally's or his mother's did. Lelouch would just rather that everyone forgot that the day existed.

He watched for a while longer so he could be sure of his observation of Lelouch's well being. Naturally, Lelouch knew he was there. He'd been far too well trained to let anyone sneak up on him, and Lelouch worked with some of the most stealthy agents Japan had. But his brother ignored him, continuing on his work as though he weren't being spied on.

Of course, Lelouch probably knew exactly why Suzaku was spying on him and exactly what was going through his mind too. Nunnally’s birthday last year – seven years after losing his seven year old sister. He supposed Lelouch had figured that he'd spent as much time without her as he had with her and that if the wound still hadn't healed it never would.

It was the one thing he would never forgive Lelouch for. And he would never forget it – walking into Lelouch's bathroom to find his brother and best friend passed out in a bathtub full of bloody water. Lelouch had been more than half dead when he'd pulled him out of the water, shouting for someone – _anyone_ – to come help him.

When Lelouch woke up in the hospital a few days later, pale and weak from blood loss and shock, the first thing Suzaku had done was punch the bastard in the face. Lelouch had never explained it – never told him just what was going through his head when he'd decided to try to take his own life. He'd never offered any kind of an explanation. They just didn't speak of it.

Lelouch still carried the scars and probably always would. Not that anyone first meeting him would notice. Lelouch was always careful to keep them hidden beneath the cuffs of the long-sleeved shirts he liked to wear.

Lelouch's gaze cut over to him before he frowned and went back to his work, picking up his phone and trapping it between his ear and shoulder as he continued to type on his computer.

“Pappsukal? I have two deliveries I need you to make. One to Jack and the other to Lord Lorraine. Can you get to Charon or Urshanabi tonight?” Lelouch asked the person on the other end of the line.

Suzaku knew those were code names, though anyone else listening might not have. Jack was short for Jack of all Trades and Lord Lorraine was named after some French nobleman that led an army against his own people. Even Pappsukal was some ancient mythological figure, along with Charon and Urshanabi. Lelouch never risked his agents by using their real names in communications.

“Tomorrow at the very latest. It's of the utmost importance. . . . Yes, I have the packages ready for you now.” Lelouch said, fingering a pair of envelopes on the desk in front of him. “. . . Alright. I'll be waiting for you. Thank you.”

Lelouch hung up the phone and went back to his work on the computer, still patently ignoring him for a few more minutes before sighing and sending him a glare that lacked any real venom. “I'm fine, Suzaku. I'm just staying up until the courier gets here and then I'm going to go to bed. No side trips, I promise.” He said wryly.

Lelouch really did seem fine. There was the same air of distant melancholy that usually surrounded him, but it didn’t seem pronounced or in threat of morphing into something more dangerous like depression.

“Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then. Good night.” He finally shrugged before turning away and retiring to his room. He worried for Lelouch, but there was only so much he could do before his anxiety became intrusive on Lelouch's life. His brother didn't need a babysitter. All he needed was a friend that would always have his back – which was what Suzaku was.

 

 

 


	3. Liar

_Naoto Stadtfeld had only met his handler once. He'd been twenty at the time, and sick and tired of life's injustices. Sick and tired of denying half of his heritage – of watching his mother's people suffer while he was fed with the silver spoon of Britannian nobility and told to pretend that the war didn't exist._

_Tired of his father's dismissive attitude to the culture that had birthed his children – the Japanese weren't important, and his first marriage had been a mistake (obviously, since he'd divorced his first wife the first moment relations between Britannia and Japan had soured). He wanted to_ _**do** _ _something._

_So he had._

_He'd had an explosive fight with his father, renouncing his family, his inheritance and his nobility. Then he'd run away. He'd taken a shady little fishing boat to the northern island and he'd signed up at the first Japanese recruiting office he'd been able to find._

_He'd wanted to fight for something that mattered; something more than Stadtfeld Industries' profit margin. He'd filled out all of the paper work and signed his soul away to the Japanese government. And once he'd jumped through every hoop, submitted to physical after physical and had his background checked, he'd been asked to come in for the final step: an interview._

_He was faced with a panel of four grizzled men in military uniforms seated at a long table and was grilled mercilessly about his life and mental state, all while a Britannian teenager absently played with a chess set next to the window. He pleaded his case – he could fight! Just give him a gun and a couple weeks of training and he promised them he'd be one of their best. He wanted to help. He wanted to do something for the only country he'd ever truly called home._

_It was two hours of what was probably the most gruelling experience in his life, and in the end, the teenager stood up with a sigh and set a Bishop on the center of the table._

_“This is what you are, Stadtfeld. The subtle stab from behind. The enemy they never see coming. You don't throw Bishops away like Pawns. You will go back to your father and you will beg for his forgiveness. You will do anything you need to to get back in his good graces, even if it means throwing your biological mother out on the street. When you are in a suitably advantageous position, your work for Japan can begin.” The teen said, his tone unquestionably authoritative. “You're dismissed.”_

_He'd stormed out of the conference room, undeniably pissed off and had paced for a few moments in the foyer, wondering why his fate was decided by some_ _**kid** _ _. He'd had a good case. He was young, healthy and willing to fight. What the hell had they seen wrong with that?_

_And go back to his father? After some of the things he'd said to the man? Beg forgiveness? Throw his mother out? Impossible. That was all impossible. He'd left before his father could officially disown him, but it would have probably been coming if he'd stuck around for a few more minutes._

_Why hadn't those bastards in the uniforms naysayed the loudmouthed brat?_

_When his interviewers filed out of the boardroom a few minutes later, he thought of pleading his case again, but paused when the kid straggled out behind them, chess set tucked under his arm. He would be damned if he begged a kid for a second chance. Instead, he flagged over a passing Ensign – a young woman maybe a year or two younger than him._

_“Excuse me, do you know who that kid is?” He asked._

_She looked to where he was pointing, studying the kid's back for a moment before shifting uncomfortably. “Ah.” She said awkwardly, “We're not supposed to say.”_

_He gave her his best lady-killer smile. “Come on, I was just in an interview with him, but I didn't catch his name.”_

_Her expression cleared with the news, replaced with surprise instead as she gave him a once over. “Oh, you're the one he came to meet personally. That's amazing really. That's . . . Lelouch-sama. He's the Prime Minister's adopted son.”_

_He let out a surprised exhale. He'd heard of Suzaku-sama. Even in Tokyo, he'd heard of the Prime Minister's mysterious son. No one knew what the kid looked like, but they knew Kururugi had an heir. He hadn't known that the Prime Minister had two heirs, especially not an adopted son that looked as Britannian as he did himself._

_He'd never seen the kid again, but six months later, after begging for his father's forgiveness and doing everything in his power to get back in the man's good books, he'd received a letter from a courier outlining his first assignment._

_It had been signed with a single 'L'._

 

***

 

Lelouch breathed the cold night-time sea breeze in deeply as he stared blankly off the side of the ship. Suzaku hadn't wanted to let him go by himself, but his brother had other duties to attend to and couldn't spend all of his time babysitting him. He loved his brother dearly. Suzaku was his best friend, his brother and the only person he actually cared about. But sometimes Suzaku just worried too much. It was mostly around birthdays and holidays, and Lelouch knew exactly why, but it was still annoying as hell.

Suzaku would never understand all that he'd sacrificed so that they could live like this and stay together. Suzaku had no idea what it was like to know that he had betrayed everything that had once made him into who he was.

He was a Britannian and he had never been allowed to forget that. Worse, he was a son of the Britannian Emperor. It was a stigma he'd never be fully free of. It clung to him like a foul stench and no matter what he did, no matter how many times he tried to prove himself, it would never dissipate.

Not that he'd ever stopped trying to break free of it.

“Looks like you've got some heavy thoughts on your mind tonight, Lelouch.” A low voice rumbled behind him.

He paused, then glanced over his shoulder at the giant hulk of a man standing behind him.

“Kenji.” He greeted, turning around to lean against the rail. “It's good to see you again. How's business been?”

“I don't do it for the money.” The man grumbled.

“Could have fooled me with the prices I've been paying.”

Kenji was over six feet tall and had a figure more suited to a Britannian heavyweight boxer than a Japanese fisherman. He was all the muscle needed to ensure that things were kept civil on his vessel. The man provided the much sought after service of ferrying the unfortunate victims of this war between the Britannian occupied islands and Hokkaido. He granted anyone who swore they weren't involved in the war safe passage on his ship. For a lot of people it was the only way to stay in contact with family members on the opposite side of the front line.

He was a hundred percent neutral and tossed anyone who turned out to be an agent for Britannia or Japan overboard. At least, that was his stance on the surface. In reality, he worked for Lelouch and, together with a Britannian that provided the same service on a different boat, enabled the Japanese government to keep tabs on anyone who entered the country.

His code named was Urshanabi.

Of course, just because the man technically worked for him, it didn't mean he knew that Lelouch was anything other than the unfortunate son of a stubborn grocer who refused to sell his store and move to the Britannia side of the country like his older brother had. That was the story, at least.

“You always were a mouthy brat.” Kenji sighed before handing him a grimy cup of what he assumed was coffee. He took a sip from it and forced himself not to spit it out. It tasted like motor oil, but the Captain of their little vessel was rarely this generous with his other passengers and it was a fairly cold night.

“Thanks.” He said, gesturing to the cup.

Kenji sighed and leaned against the rail next to him. “You know, most people only use my services once or twice. A quick jump over the line and sometimes back. But you, you use my ship like a transit service.”

Lelouch shrugged. “I'm not willing to give up half of my family. They're all I have left. But Dad lives in Sapporo and my brother lives in Tokyo, and neither one of them is willing to compromise.”

“So what's the occasion this time?”

He frowned, adopting his most troubled expression. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't very hard to feign. “I've been . . . thinking about applying for university in Tokyo. I wanted to talk to my brother about it. He said he'd take me around to some of the campus' if I came out to see him.”

“Can you even do that?” Kenji asked. “I don't know if a Britannian university would accept Japanese high school credits.”

“Oh, no, Dad did that much right, at least. He made sure that I was home schooled using a Britannian curriculum. All of my credits should transfer just fine, though I plan to use my brother's address on my application.” He revealed. It wasn't hard for him to lie. He'd been developing this cover for years now. Every time he crossed, he regaled Kenji with the tale of some new fictitious family drama and the man didn't suspect him at all.

In fact, the last time he'd crossed, he'd gone on a bit of a rant about how he thought being treated differently just because of his ethnicity was ridiculous and wrong. He'd thought it was a bit funny to find a recommendation of a possible source for the intelligence agency to tap on his desk later the next week.

“That's good, but what does your Dad think of all this?”

Lelouch went silent again for a moment. “I . . . haven't figured out how to tell him. It's not like I'm going to be completely abandoning him and I'll still visit, but with a degree in Business Management I could turn our store into a big name instead of a tiny family grocery store that people hardly shop at because it's owned by Britannians. I know I could do it.”

Kenji nodded in agreement. “I'm sure you can.”

Lelouch nodded as well and let his gaze travel across the rest of the ship. The dichotomy between Britannians and Japanese was easy to see. To the fore of the ship, the Japanese gathered together, talking rapidly and quietly amongst each other. A quiet, exclusive group that kept to themselves. Toward the aft of the ship, stood the Britannians, just as exclusive, but with a condescending and almost frightened aura. Kenji had made good on his threat to throw troublemakers overboard more than once.

Between the two stood a handful of others like him, Britannians who were unwanted on the Japanese side and strangers to the Britannians, or vice versa. Mostly, they just kept to themselves.

“You wouldn't happen to be able to tell me where you're dropping us off this time, would you?” He asked after another moment of silence. The ship never landed in the same city twice in a row and you only ever knew where to get on by asking the right person. It helped keep the governments from cracking down on them.

“Tokyo, this time.”

“Sweet.” He said in feigned relief. “I won't have to take too much of a train ride to get to my brother's place.”

It was a lie. He was headed for Nagasaki.

 

***

 

Naoto could count on one hand how many times he'd received a missive by courier carrying orders for him over the last four years. Usually the command was something along the lines of 'Develop a friendship with Lord So-and-So of Such-and-Such Company'. He'd never been ordered to go to an expensive hotel in Nagasaki and check in under a false name before.

It was new, and it made him a bit uncomfortable. It wasn't that he was unwilling to act; it was just that he liked to be in control of his situation. There were too many unknowns. He didn't know why he was here, who he was supposed to meet, or what he was supposed to do.

His discomfort became compounded when, half an hour after entering the room he'd been booked into, another man entered the room and confessed to being just as clueless as he was. The man was Britannian and in his thirties. Naoto didn't know his name, nor had he given out his own. If the Britannian wasn't his contact, he had no business knowing.

They sat in silence, each accepting of the fact that though they shared a room they shared nothing else. And they waited. For hours. The missive hadn't said what time his contact would meet with him, only that he was to be waiting in this room on this night for more details of his next assignment.

It was two thirty in the morning when a knock finally sounded at the door. The Britannian was seated closer to the door, and so he left the task of opening it for what would hopefully be their contact to him as he tried to wake himself up by rubbing his hands over his face.

A bellboy wheeled a large trolley into the room. Naoto disregarded the boy until he was halfway into the room – and then he froze. Sure, he'd only met him once and years ago at that, but he'd never forget his face. Not with those lazily arrogant violet eyes and high cheekbones.

He shot to his feet and bowed formally while the unknown Britannian watched the exchange in confusion. “Lelouch-sama.”

“Way to keep my identity a secret.” The teen chided, though the reprimand lacked any real venom. “Close the door, Amos.”

The Britannian did as he was told, closing and locking the door, before extending his own bow to the Prime Minister's son.

“Enough of that. Come, sit.” Lelouch said, gesturing towards the table before pushing the trolley right up next to it and unloading a couple coffee cups and a plate of pastries. “I apologize for being late, but I landed in Tokyo and had to make my way here using public transit.”

“It's quite alright, my Lord.” Naoto said, feeling awkwardly out of place.

“Have you done introductions yet?” Lelouch asked, to which he shook his head. “Ah, fine, I'll introduce you. Amos, this is Lord Naoto Stadtfeld, the son and heir of Earl Stadtfeld and Vice President of Stadtfeld Industries. Naoto, this is Amos Russell. He's my best infiltrator and con artist.”

“And you are?” Amos asked.

Lelouch stilled halfway through adding cream to his coffee and frowned. Eventually he answered and continued the movement as though it had never been interrupted. “I am Kururugi Lelouch. The Prime Minister adopted me eight years ago. I've been your handler since you joined our resistance, and I'm the guy who signs your cheques.”

Amos stiffened and Lelouch smirked slightly, as though he thought the expression were funny. “I had no idea, my Lord.”

Lelouch shrugged it off with a nonchalant flick of his hand. “It's fine.”

Naoto frowned. As exciting as it was to come face to face with Lelouch again, surely the Prime Minister could have chosen someone other than one of his sons to trek all the way across enemy territory to a meeting with two spies. “May I ask why you've come, Lelouch-sama?”

“Straight to business then.” The teen smirked. “I like it. I have come, and invited you two along for the ride, so that I can complete my newest objective.”

“Which is?” He asked hesitantly. Something in the boys smirk made him uncomfortable.

“Which is getting close to Lord Jeremiah Gottwald. I need intel on him before I can make my move – which is where you two come in.”

Gottwald.

He'd never met a more bigoted man in his life. He hated the Japanese with a passion and had never made any secret of it. In fact, he was almost ridiculously outspoken about it – even going so far as founding the Purist Faction and having the Honorary Britannian system abolished. Now, even Japanese who were willing to submit and serve the Empire had no rights and no real reason to want to serve their conquerors.

He'd been bad news for Japan since the beginning.

Naoto had met him a handful of times at various social events before he'd become a Royal Guard and the man had never left him with a favourable impression. He couldn't possibly see what Lelouch would want with him unless . . .

“Assassination?” He asked quietly.

“No. Recruitment.” Lelouch shrugged.

Naoto stared at the teen incredulously. Four years ago, he might have laughed in Lelouch's face and called him naive, but he'd learned a thing or two since then. Lelouch had turned people that he'd been certain would never sympathize with the Japanese and, from what he'd learned, Lelouch never went into anything without a plan. He'd been just as certain that some of his previous targets would never side with Japan, and he'd been proven wrong more than once.

“I have some leverage I can use on him. I just need to be able to get close enough to use it.” Lelouch explained. “Which is what I need you two for. Naoto, I need you to try to get close to him. Amos will join your staff and learn how to serve in a noble's household. When he's proficient, I will have him placed in Gottwald's house.”

Whatever dirt they had on Gottwald, it had to be good. It would be a complete one-eighty from his stance now if Gottwald suddenly started batting for the Japanese.

“Would you mind sharing what this leverage is? I might be able to exploit it.”

“I'm afraid I can't do that. It would distract you from the task at hand.” Lelouch said evenly.

“Of course, my Lord. Is there any information in particular that you want us to retrieve from him?” He asked instead.

“Places where he frequents, times that he spends alone, or at least not in the company of anyone from Clovis' court or the military. Likes, dislikes, a general evaluation of his personality, any weaknesses you can come across, and who his friends and enemies are.”

It was quite the task list and it wouldn't all be easy to come by. Likely, it would take months before Lelouch would have enough information to make his move. And those months would not be easy on him. He would have to maintain a facade that made him even more uncomfortable than the one he was already wearing.

“It will be done.” He promised.

 

***

 

Suzaku tilted his head to the side, then winced when his neck cracked loudly enough for the man who was speaking to his father to pause for a moment. He apologized softly and averted his gaze slightly, hoping to avoid his father's glare. He was bored out of his skull, but was trying desperately not to let it show. It was unbecoming of the heir of Japan not to show his advisers his respect, but he really wasn't suited to this kind of stuff.

Give him a Knightmare and he could fight. But this dancing around each other with words had always been more of Lelouch's forte than his own. Lelouch would probably even be interested in this discussion. All Suzaku was interested in was how likely it was that that they'd be engaging the Britannians in full out war again after getting their asses handed to them a few months ago.

That had been a mess and it had partially been his fault. He'd been put in command of the Eighth Platoon; some of the best soldiers they had, but he'd pushed them too hard and too fast. He would have lost them all if Tohdoh hadn't ordered a retreat. Not that he'd been able to see that at the time. Lelouch had had to physically drag him from the field to get him to fall back.

It had led to a pretty spectacular fight between the two of them until their father had come across the scene and shut them both up. He'd eventually admit that Lelouch had probably saved his life, and the lives of his men. And of course Lelouch had smirked slightly, leading into another fight.

“As I was saying, if the Viceroy's new law pushes through, it will be devastating to our people trapped on the Britannian controlled islands, but it may help our cause in the long run. With the only option being submitting to Britannia, or fleeing to Hokkaido, many will brave the journey and many will join our cause.”

“It's unacceptable to tolerate our people's suffering on the chance that their sympathy for resistance might rise. We will do what we can to oppose the law. Who is backing it?”

“Lords Ethan, Reimer, and Platt drafted and proposed it, and they've gathered the support of much of the nobility. And of course, there's Lord Gottwald. At this point he hasn't declared either for or against, but it's only a matter of time and it's obvious it will be for the law. With so much pressure from the nobility, Clovis won't have a choice but to implement the law, even if he did personally oppose it.” Munakata explained.

Suzaku stifled a yawn. They'd been agitating over the proposed law for over an hour already. Yes, the law was damning. What had been proposed was that every “Eleven” be registered and tagged by the Britannian government. Like animals. Any Japanese who refused to submit to the law would be named a felon, arrested and either jailed or executed without trial. But they were spending too much time talking about it and not enough time _doing_ anything about it.

“So why not just have Ethan, Remier and Platt assassinated?” He suggested. They had the best assassins in existence under their command.

“Because it would show them that we're scared.” His father answered patiently, “And it would likely end up garnering even _more_ support amongst the Britannians. There's nothing they love as much as a martyr and revenge.”

Suzaku sighed. “Of course.” Sometimes it was hard for him to think that these were Lelouch's people they were talking about. He couldn't understand how Lelouch could be so normal, while the rest of Britannia was so extremist. After all, there was no real point to this new law they were proposing. It wouldn't actually achieve anything but to further aggravate and marginalize the Elevens. It was lawmaking for the sake of flexing their muscles a bit.

It was stupid.

“Then what is it that you propose to do, My Lord?” Munakata asked.

His father frowned, staring pensively at the draft of the law in front of him. “I have something already in the works. We will do what we can to stall the law from being finalized until my other son has completed his current assignment.”

Did Gottwald really have enough sway to oppose the law on his own?

“What assignment?” Munakata asked darkly. He was one of the few who knew exactly who Lelouch really was. “The boy can't be trusted.”

Suzaku glared. “You just hate him because he's Britannian. He has never done anything to suggest he isn't trustworthy.”

“He's biding his time!” Munakata protested. “No son of the Britannian Emperor would truly join our cause. Mark my words, the moment we're on the cusp of victory, he will strike!”

“We'd have already been overrun if it weren't for Lelouch feeding Tohdoh vital information about Britannian formations and tactics. He's on our side!” He snapped heatedly.

“Enough!” Genbu barked, shutting them both up. “Munakata-san, never doubt my son's loyalty in front of me again. And Suzaku, do not argue with your elders. I taught you better than that.”

He reined in the quick retort that, just because someone was older than him didn't mean they were right, and bowed quickly instead. “I apologize, Munakata-san.” He said emotionlessly.

He had never been good at this part either. He lacked Lelouch's subtlety and social finesse. If someone said something he didn't agree with, he argued. He knew if Lelouch had been there and had come face to face with such accusations, his brother would have just bowed and said something about how he would work harder to prove his loyalty.

But it wasn't right! Lelouch had proven his loyalty time and time again. He had nothing to do with Britannia anymore. He'd cut all ties with them even before he'd been adopted by the Prime Minister. Lelouch had never even tried to contact his family after Nunnally died. He couldn't understand how people could still doubt Lelouch after everything he'd done for Japan.

“And I apologize for my doubt, Kururugi-sama. I let my concern get the best of me.” The older man bowed. “If we're done here for today, I'll see myself out.”

His father nodded and the old adviser gathered his things and left. Suzaku had the good grace to wait until the man was at the door before letting the scowl fall back onto his face.

“Give it time, Suzaku.” His father said softly. “They'll come around.”

“We've given them eight years.” He retorted.

Genbu sighed. “Patience, my son. It's something you've yet to master.”

He pressed his lips together to suppress the disgruntled snort that threatened to escape. Much as he hated to admit it, he thrived on the praise of his father, so even a comment like that tended to hurt more than it should. He was well aware, after all, that patience had never been his strong suit.

“How much longer do we have to be patient with them? It's unfair to Lelouch to let these kinds of allegations continue.” He demanded. Munakata wasn't the only one still carrying around such doubts. A fair number of his father's advisers shared the sentiment.

“What would you have me do, Suzaku? Relieve them of their positions? I'm not a tyrant. Everyone is free to have their own opinion, even if it differs from my own.”

“Someone's opinion shouldn't be allowed to adversely affect someone else.” He retorted.

His father smiled slightly. “True. But it's just thoughts and words at the moment. If they ever dared to raise their hand against Lelouch, it would be a different matter entirely.”

He allowed himself to be mollified by the statement. His father's inner circle could groan and grumble all they wanted, but the moment they decided to act it would all be over for them. He didn't care who they were, if anyone tried to go after Lelouch, he'd deal with them himself.

 

***

 

Kallen tip-toed down the stairs toward the door, shoes held in hand to keep them from clacking on the marble flooring and her school bag hanging off her shoulder. She was so close – maybe fifteen feet from the door. If she could just get through it and out she'd have succeeded in avoiding her stepmother an entire forty-eight hours.

So close . . .

“Kallen.”

And yet so far. . .

She stiffened and turned around slowly, dropping into a polite curtsey. “Mother.” She greeted.

“Where do you think you're going looking like that?” The woman asked. Charlene Stadtfeld was not an easy woman to live with. She was strict and arrogant, and hated the fact that she had no children of her own. Actually, what she probably hated most about it was that the children she'd been tasked with raising were half-Eleven.

“To school.” She answered quietly.

“Not like that, you're not.” Lady Stadtfeld snapped. “Go fix your hair.”

“I'm going to be late already as it is.” She protested.

“Then be late. You're not leaving until you're presentable.”

Kallen grit her teeth but dutifully turned around and head back up the stairs. Like so many other things, the natural fall of her hair annoyed her stepmother. She personally thought it looked kind of spunky and cool with the way it naturally flipped out. Lady Stadtfeld thought otherwise, and in this house her stepmother's word was law.

She was going to get detention for being late again. It would be the third time she'd been tardy this week, and they were only at Wednesday. She could understand why her teachers were so annoyed with her, but this time it wasn't her fault. Today, she would have arrived just in time for the bell if her stepmother hadn't interfered.

But now she'd have detention and, in addition to whatever punishment her teacher could think up, she'd have to deal with a punishment from her stepmother for coming home late as well. It was a vicious circle and it wasn't the first time she'd been caught in it.

She sighed heavily as she plugged in her flat iron, waiting for the plates to heat up so she could straighten her hair down into a style that Lady Stadtfeld found presentable. When had it become like this? Sure, she'd never particularly liked her stepmother, but she'd at least tried to like her in the beginning. Though with all the scornful remarks the woman had sent her way over the years, it wasn't necessarily surprising that they couldn't stand each other.

Still, she remembered a time when it hadn't been this bad. She remembered when her living situation had at least been tolerable, and her stepmother hadn't constantly criticized her every move and always found her lacking or at fault. Then again, maybe it had always been like this but Naoto had just been shielding her from the brunt of the witch's scorn.

Her eyes narrowed into a scowl at the thought, regardless of the lessons she'd had to keep from making such an expression to prevent future wrinkles. She hadn't actually talked to her brother since summer, and even then she hadn't really wanted to talk to him.

Damned coward.

He'd been her hero once. He'd tirelessly preached to her about the fallacy of the Britannian mindset and had told her repeatedly not to forsake her Japanese heritage. When their stepmother wasn't looking, they'd spoken Japanese to each other, telling old Japanese stories and fairy tales. And when they'd finally been caught – when their sympathies had been found out – Naoto had been so cool.

She'd witnessed the argument he'd had with their father from the second story landing and had never thought her brother had been more awesome. He'd been calm and concise, presenting evidence and arguments against the way the Japanese were treated while their father had screamed himself red in the face. Naoto had been fearless.

And then he'd disappeared for a week before crawling back and begging their father for forgiveness, renouncing everything he'd once stood for. Life must have been too hard for him without the Stadtfeld silver spoon stuck in his mouth.

She sighed and pushed her thoughts away from the brother she wished she didn't have as she ran the flat iron through her hair, creating a boring, sophisticated bob. Boring and sophisticated. Yes, that perfectly described the life her parents wanted her to lead. If she spent the rest of her days sipping tea and schmoozing with other nobles her parents would be perfectly happy with her.

She glared at her reflection in the mirror. Just a few more months and she'd be finished high school. Then she'd be able to go to university, get a job, move out and abandon this pathetic existence. She hoped.  


	4. Masquerade

_“Try it. I snuck it out of Dad's office.” Suzaku persuaded, holding out the tiny cup towards him._

_He glanced away, uncomfortable with the situation but took the cup anyway because it was Suzaku that was giving it to him. He took a tiny sip, grimacing at the terrible taste and smell before he downed the entire shot._

_It burned its way down his throat and settled like a warm ball in his stomach, bringing a flush to his cheeks and a numbness to his lips. All in all, it was unpleasant. He coughed slightly, wiping at his mouth to get rid of the taste as Suzaku howled with laughter._

_“You should see your face!” His brother gasped._

_“You try it then.” He snapped petulantly as he held the cup back out in offering._

_“It can't be that bad. Dad drinks it all the time.” Suzaku said confidently as he poured from the small bottle of expensive foreign liquor. “Bottoms up!” He said cheerfully before downing the whole cup in a single gulp._

_Suzaku began coughing almost immediately, rubbing a hand across his throat with the most disgusted expression on his face. “That's terrible!”_

_Lelouch chuckled. “I told you.”_

_“How can Dad drink that?! Are his taste buds dead?” Suzaku demanded, flushed and glassy-eyed. “How do they just sit around drinking this with each othe-”_

_He cut off when the door slammed open and Ijiri stormed in. She was their tutor, in her early fifties, grey haired and a total bitch. She'd been on Lelouch's case since he'd first been introduced to her. She took one look at the situation, both of them flushed with the liquor and Suzaku still holding the bottle in hand, before glaring._

_“_ _**What** _ _are you doing in here?” She demanded._

_“”Um . . . well . . . you see. . .” Suzaku began, trying to subtly hid the bottle behind his back and failing miserably._

_“It's my fault.” He said quickly, before Suzaku could step on some kind of landmine. He bowed his head, hiding his eyes behind his long bangs. “I'm sorry. I took it from the Prime Minister's office. I just. . . thought it would be fun to try.”_

_“That's not true! I'm the one -” Suzaku protested._

_“He's just trying to cover for me because he doesn't want me to get in trouble again.” Lelouch cut him off, glaring and sending a silent signal for his brother to shut the hell up. It was fine like this. In fact, it was better if he was the one to get in trouble. It was what people expected of him. Just an ungrateful Britannian brat that the Prime Minister had taken pity on. Better than the heir getting into trouble._

_“Give me the bottle, Suzaku-sama.” She said firmly._

_Suzaku did as he was told, handing over the evidence of their wrongdoing._

_“Lelouch.” She said sharply. He never got an honorific from her. She said it was because he was Britannian and Britannians didn't use honorifics. Well, it was half truth. It was because he was Britannian, and she hated Britannians after watching her husband get gunned down by Britannian soldiers. She slapped him hard across the face. “_ _**Never** _ _do this again.”_

_“I'm sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again.” He promised, rubbing his sore cheek._

_“I'll be telling the Prime Minister of this.” The woman promised before she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her._

_Suzaku was on him a second later, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him. “What did you do that for? It was my fault!”_

_“It's fine.” He sighed, batting Suzaku's hands away from him._

_“But why'd you let her hit you? You could have dodged that easily!” Suzaku protested._

_Lelouch shrugged. It was because it was easier. If he'd dodged or fought back, it would have only made the situation worse. Ijiri didn't like him to begin with, but at least she'd never get the chance to punish him for being disobedient._

_“God, you're stupid.” Suzaku huffed. “If someone tries to hurt you, defend yourself! Isn't that what Tohdoh-sensei's been teaching you all these years? I never want to see someone hurt you.”_

_“Fine.” He grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I'll dodge next time.”_

_Well, the next time Suzaku was watching at least._

 

***

 

Suzaku grinned, shaking the hand of the man in front of him. “It's good to finally meet you, Mura-san.”

Mura looked shocked as he limply shook hands with the heir of Japan. “An– and you, Kururugi-sama.”

Suzaku had been looking forward to this for weeks, ever since Tohdoh had made the recommendation. Mura was barely twenty, but had already proven himself as an elite Knightmare pilot. The General even seemed to think that the newcomer could match his skills. So it was exciting that there was finally someone that would be able to keep up with him. And the fact that Mura was around the same age as him didn't hurt either.

“Bah, don't bother being so formal. We're going to be fighting right alongside each other. You might as well just call me Suzaku.” He shrugged.

“Suzaku-sama, I'm honoured.”

“It's fine. Just promise me that you'll follow orders and that you'll be able to keep up with me on the battlefield and it will all be good.” He laughed.

Even though the men under his command were some of the best Japan had to offer, their skills still paled in comparison to his own. Three months ago . . . if he'd had a platoon of soldiers that could pilot on the same level as he could, they would have smashed the Britannians.

“I'll try my hardest to live up to your expectations.” Mura promised.

“Oi, Suzaku, you dumb ass.” A voice called from behind him, but before he could even turn around, Mura was already moving, placing himself between Suzaku and the speaker.

“Learn some respect, Britannian.” Mura growled, throwing a fist straight at Lelouch's face.

For a half-second Lelouch's gaze flicked over to him, ignoring the imminent danger. Then he dodged, twisting out of the way milliseconds before a punch that would have probably broken his nose could land. Mura's second punch flew with no greater success.

This was the reason he'd always hated sparring against Lelouch so much. But it was also the reason why it was so entertaining to watch Lelouch fight other people. When he chose to try, he was impossible to hit. And when he chose to hit back, the strikes were flawless. Lelouch moved with an economy of motion. Every movement was perfectly planned and executed to cause the most damage with the least amount of effort.

Lelouch ducked under the next blow, lunging forward to land two open-handed chops at Mura's throat and shoulder. Mura staggered, Lelouch grabbed his wrist, twisted it behind his back and kicked in the back of his knees.

When they stopped moving, Mura was face first on the ground with his arm still twisted back up behind him, and Lelouch was standing over him with his boot resting on the back of the guy's neck.

“I trust you just learned a valuable lesson, Mura Akatsuki.” Lelouch said, his voice deadly calm. His expression hadn't changed at all during the fight.

“He didn't know, Lelouch.” Suzaku chided, earning a glare.

“Know what, exactly?” Mura growled.

“Lelouch, let him up.” He ordered.

“As you wish, brother.” Lelouch sighed, dropping Mura's arm and stepping away from the downed soldier.

“Geez, what's got you in such a bad mood?” Suzaku sighed, going forward to help Mura back up to his feet.

“You.” Lelouch snapped.

“What did I do?” He demanded.

“Fighting with Munakata?” Lelouch demanded in return before glancing around and biting his lip. They were in an open parade ground. Anyone could overhear them and Lelouch would never risk causing a scandal by getting in a fight with him out in the open.

“Heard about that, huh?” He said sheepishly. It wasn't surprising. Lelouch had informants all over Japan. Though it was kind of surprising that Lelouch had heard about it all the way from Kyushu.

Lelouch just huffed in annoyance before turning on his heel and storming off. Suzaku glanced at Mura and smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I've got to go let him yell at me for a bit. He'll be completely unbearable if I don't.”

“He's your brother?” Mura asked in confusion.

“Yeah. Don't tell anyone though, kay?” Suzaku answered with a wave before running off to catch up with Lelouch.

Lelouch didn't say a single word until they had travelled halfway through the military base and into the tiny office Lelouch had been granted by the intelligence department.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Lelouch demanded after slamming the door shut behind them.

“He was being an asshole!” He protested heatedly. “He kept saying that you were a traitor and were just biding your time until you betrayed us.”

“I don't care! I don't about that, you half-witted moron! Munakata is the second most influential man in Japan. Let him think what he wants to think. It's fine if he hates me. But don't you go making an enemy out of him. He can make life difficult for you. How many times have I told you that?”

“Oh? What's he going to do to me? I'm the Prime Minister's son, Lelouch.”

“And he's the Prime Minister's primary adviser. The Diet only voted in favour of the position of Prime Minister passing down through hereditary succession a few years ago. Don't take it for granted just yet. Munakata has a lot of influence over the members of the Diet.” Lelouch warned.

“Are you saying he'd turn against me?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying, idiot. You are the heir of Japan only for so long as the people will for the title of Prime Minister to be passed on through your family. And Munakata has the voice of the people. So smarten up.” Lelouch grumbled. “Why were you even arguing about me? You were supposed to be discussing the proposed registration laws.”

“Dad thinks Gottwald can help make the law fail. He said we weren't going to do anything until you'd gotten to him.”

“You're joking.” Lelouch said, visibly unimpressed. “My first assignment after getting to Gottwald is to get the man to overturn a major piece of legislation?”

“That's what Dad said.” He answered with a shrug.

Lelouch rubbed a hand over his forehead and slumped against his desk. “Well, fuck. Nothing like easing into it. This will require a completely different approach.”

 

***

 

“Good game!” Milly Ashford chirped in Kallen's ear, clapping her on the shoulder.

Kallen hid her wince and smiled instead. “Thanks. You played well too.” She said brightly, following the blonde towards the change room after gym class. Just one more class and they'd be done for the weekend. She'd have two full days to . . .

Well . . . actually the weekend was nothing to look forward to. She hadn't made any plans and so therefore would likely spend the entire break trying to avoid her stepmother. She scowled and opened up her locker before pulling off her gym shirt and searching for her deodorant.

“God, Kallen, what happened to your back?” Shirley exclaimed.

Shit. She'd forgotten.

“Ah . . . that.” She said awkwardly, catching sight of the nasty bruises all across her shoulder blades and down her spine in the mirror across from her locker. “I slipped on the stairs at my house last night. It's no big deal. You know me, I'm a total klutz.”

“Geez,” Milly said, coming around the corner of the locker bay to take a look just like the rest of their gawking classmates. “It looks bad.”

“Doesn't it hurt?” Shirley asked.

“Not badly.” She shrugged and pulled her school uniform on to hide the injury.

Milly frowned. “Didn't something like that happen to you a couple weeks ago too?”

“It's the maids.” She complained, quickly pulling on her clothes. “They keep using this floor polish. Honestly, it makes the whole place like an ice rink.”

“Are you sure?” Milly asked in an undertone, quiet enough that only she could hear. “If you're in trouble, you know I've got your back. Did something happen? You didn't used to be this clumsy.”

Kallen paused and clenched her teeth. She wasn't weak. She wouldn't let anyone think of her as weak. She didn't need help. In a couple more months she'd be done with this and it would all just be a bad memory. She wasn't weak. She could endure it.

“What are you suggesting?” She hissed, glaring at her friend.

“Nothing!” Milly said quickly, holding her hands up. “I just want you to know that I'll always have your back. No matter what.”

She snorted. “Thanks. But I'm fine.”

“So long as you know.” Milly sighed, disappearing back around the bay of lockers to finish getting dressed.

She sighed, slumping her shoulders as she packed up her gym bag and finished making herself presentable. She'd never hear the end of it from Lady Stadtfeld if the woman heard of her looking less than perfect at school. She was valuable goods, after all. No doubt the woman entertained dreams of marrying her off to some influential noble to further the family's position.

Not that she'd ever get the chance. She'd be long gone before her stepmother even presented her first prospective suitor. She'd cut all ties with the Stadtfeld name and go live in the ghettos with the Japanese for all she cared.

She'd let the woman do as she wished until she was able to finish high school. After that, all bets were off. Ashford Academy was the most prestigious school in Area Eleven so there was no way she'd have been able to afford the tuition on her own. But since her grades were good, her university would be pretty much take care of itself. She just needed to tough out these last few months.

“Only History left today.” Milly sighed as they made their way out of the change room and towards their next class. “What are you guys doing this weekend? Do you have any plans?”

“My parents are making me clean out the storage room.” Shirley sighed woefully. “It's going to be terrible. I don't think anyone's touched it since last year. And then Mom mentioned something about cleaning the rest of the house too since we're going to be having guests over the Christmas holiday.”

“What about you, Kallen?” Milly asked.

She shrugged, still kicking herself over letting everyone make a big deal over a couple bruises. “I have nothing planned.”

“Then do you want to come over to my place?” Milly asked excitedly. “We could have a sleep over! Girl talk. Painting each other's nails. Watching chick flicks!”

Well, it wasn't like she had anything else to do. Besides, she didn't really want to be at her evil stepmother's mercy for an entire two days. At least at Milly's there was no chance she'd run into Lady Stadtfeld. And the Ashford heiress' sleep overs were always fun. So even if she had to put up with Milly's suspicions about her home life, it was still better than actually being home.

“Sure. I'll phone one of the maids to bring an overnight bag to the school. That way we can go straight to your place after next class.” She agreed.

“Excellent!” Milly cheered. “I have to go let Gramps know.”

Kallen watched her rush off with a sigh. Milly would probably be late for class because of this. And then she'd probably have to stay late for her punishment. Which meant that Kallen would have to stay late as well. And she'd actually made it to class on time today too.

“Honestly, if she paid half as much attention to her schooling as she did to socializing she wouldn't have flunked last year.” Shirley huffed. “We have midterms coming up. You should try to make her study a bit this weekend.”

Kallen laughed. “What makes you think that I'd be successful at all?”

“Come on, you've got the highest grades in our year. Just tell her you need to study for exams or something.” Shirley complained. “At this rate Milly will end up flunking this year as well.”

“Her grades aren't that bad.” She shrugged.

“How do you know?”

“I tutored her before the last batch of exams.” She shrugged. It had been another great excuse to stay out of the house and Lady Stadtfeld had even approved of it because the Ashfords were still a respectable family even despite losing their noble titles.

“I didn't know that! Hey, would you be able to tutor me?” Shirley asked hopefully. “My grades aren't that bad, but even just a few more percent would make me feel better about getting into a good university.”

“Sure.” She agreed. At this point, she'd take any viable excuse to stay out of the house that she could get. At least now she had something to look forward to past the weekend. It was the little goals that helped her cope with the seemingly endless span of months before graduation.

 

***

 

Naoto sighed heavily as he opened the door to his penthouse apartment and dropped his keys on the table by the entrance.

“Welcome home, Master.” His maid said brightly, curtseying.

“Thank you, Sophie.”

She nodded in acknowledgement, then curtseyed to the man that had come in behind him. “Welcome, Sir.”

“Ah, this is -”

“Levi Rhine.” Amos said quickly with a lecherous grin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

Naoto barely refrained from rolling his eyes. Obviously he wouldn’t have introduced the man using his real name. That's assuming the Amos Russell even was his real name. Sophie didn't have anything to do with the war. He'd always been careful to keep his dealings with Japan secret even within his own household.

“Mr. Rhine is an acquaintance of mine from the homeland. He'll be staying here for the next few weeks as we work out some new business proposals.” He explained.

“I'll see to it that the guest room is made up right away. Is there anything I can get for you, Master?” She asked.

“Not right now, but thank you, Sophie.” He smiled.

She curtseyed again before excusing herself. Amos waited until she was gone before smirking slightly. “She's more than just your servant.”

Naoto paused in the process of making his way across the foyer. “She's an attendant. It's less demeaning than calling her a servant, as you'll learn.”

“Very well. She's more than just your attendant.” Amos said again.

Naoto let out a slow breath. If he was trying to get a rise out of him . . . “It's nothing serious.”

“But she's Britannian.” The con man pointed out.

“So are you.” He countered.

“But not you. You're only a half no matter what you pretend to be, right, Lord Nathan Stadtfeld?” Amos said, holding up a business card.

He narrowed his eyes into a glare. His father had insisted he legally change his name before joining the family business. But that wasn't really the problem. The problem was that they hadn't been anywhere where Amos could have picked up one of his business cards. Except for his wallet.

He hadn't even noticed he'd been pick pocketed by the bastard. How disgraceful. And he was supposed to be a keen observer. A spy!

He took the card from the thief's hand. “Please refrain from such behaviour in the future.”

“It's my job.” Amos shrugged.

“ _I_ am not your target.” He said firmly.

“As you wish, My Lord.” Amos said with a sarcastic bow.

“That is incorrect. You will address me as 'Master' if you want to succeed in this endeavour at all. And your bow is pathetic. You'd be dead already if Gottwald saw that.”

It knocked the wind out of the bastard's sails at least. Amos grit his teeth and bowed again, more seriously and deeper.

“Still wrong.” Naoto grumbled. “You're not some medieval courtier presenting yourself to a lady. Legs together and back straight. Arms either at your sides or with one over your chest.”

“You're enjoying this aren't you? Lording yourself over me?”

“Who ever said that that wasn't allowed?” He countered. “Now try it agai-” He cut off, gesturing for the Britannian to stop when he heard the steady click-clack of Sophie's heels on the hardwood. She was coming back.

“The room is ready for Mr. Rhine whenever it pleases him to use it.” She said as she entered the living room, curtseying again as protocol dictated.

“You should get some rest, Levi. Tomorrow's going to be a long day.” He said with a smirk. “See him to his room, Sophie. Then come find me when you're done.”

“Yes, Master. This way, if it pleases you, Mr. Rhine.”

“Of course.”

Amos followed without protest and Naoto sighed in relief. It had been a long day, and though he'd barely spoken to the new employee Lelouch had deemed fit to burden him with, just the last few minutes had been enough for it all to catch up with him.

He loosened his tie as he trudged into his home office, slumping back in his chair as he waited for his computer to boot up. However long the day had been, he still had work to do. In order to make sure that no one from Stadtfeld Industries or his father found out that he'd skipped the last day of work instead of working at home like he'd told them, he'd have to make it up now.

But before he could get any work done, Sophie was knocking on the door to his office. He bade her enter and she waited patiently in front of his desk as he confirmed that none of the emails in his inbox were actually as urgent as the senders thought they were.

“I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Will you be returning to the Stadtfeld estate for the holidays, Master?” She enquired.

“No, but just because I'm not going away for Christmas doesn't mean you shouldn't.” He shrugged. “You haven't gone to see your family for a couple months now. I'll give you from tomorrow until New Years day off. With pay. Think of it as a Christmas bonus.”

“I . . . that's . . . are you sure it's a good time for that? You have a guest here and you shouldn't have to be the one to wait on him.” She protested.

“I'm sure we'll manage. Not that I don't appreciate everything you usually do for me.” He amended quickly.

“You're sure?”

“Of course I'm sure. Enjoy the holidays. And make sure you buy your mom a ridiculous present and say its from me, okay?”

She smiled. “I will. But I guess I'll have to think of something good to give you for Christmas before I go.” She said as she came around the desk to lean against it next to him. “Do you have any gift ideas for me?” She asked, leaning her face close to his but stopping when they were only inches apart.

She always stopped before it came to actually initiating anything. And she always would. He was an aristocrat. Hundreds of years of power and prestige flowed in his veins, and compared to that she was nothing but a lower class girl who had to work in a lord's household to support her sick mother. At least that's how Britannian society saw it.

She knew her place and she'd never cross the line. This was merely an offering that he was free to take or reject as he pleased. They would never be anything more than master and attendant, no matter how he felt about her. And besides, it wasn't even like she knew the real him anyway. It was always a mask, one act or another. She'd never met Naoto Stadtfeld before. She had no idea where his loyalties lay or about the illicit activities he got up to. And he didn't really want her to know either. It was better this way.

He closed the distance between them, brushing his lips against hers in a soft kiss. “I can think of a few things.” He smirked.

Work could wait for a few more hours.

 

***

 

“Lord Gottwald left this for you, your highness.” His secretary said with a curtsey, handing over a thick, sealed manila envelope.

“Thank you.” He sighed, taking the offending piece of paperwork before closing the door to his office and slumping down on the couch. He glared at the envelope and briefly thought about burning it just to spite the bastard, before he opened it anyway.

Out slid the contents; the draft of a new law.

“What the hell does he think . . .” He grumbled to himself. He wanted to reject the draft out of hand. He didn't even want to read it. Unfortunately he didn't have that luxury.

He wasn't even sure exactly when it had happened. Gradually? In increments? He'd been blind to the whole process, wrapped up in his art and being the image of a prince until it was too late. But now he was fully aware of the situation. A coup d'etat had taken place and he was now nothing more than a puppet for a more powerful man. He was the mouthpiece while Gottwald was the mastermind behind the governance of Area Eleven.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Gottwald held the military in hand. He couldn’t even move his own troops without the man's approval. That ambitious dog had reduced him to nothing but a figurehead that sat helplessly as his country was run by others.

He couldn't even go to his father for help to get him out of this shameful situation. No, he'd rather die than lose face with the Emperor. That couldn't happen. Ever. Even if he had to play this pathetic role and pretend to be in league with Gottwald.

He just needed Gottwald to hurry up and finish this war. Yes. Once he'd won the entire area, there would be no need for a soldier of Gottwald's calibre and he could quietly have the bastard assassinated for his impertinence. He could slip this leash. He just needed peace to do it since he was fully aware that Gottwald was the reason that they were winning this war.

Without Gottwald, Tohdoh would quickly gain the advantage and push them back. That Eleven was downright uncanny. It was like he knew what they were thinking before they even thought it. Bartley had already proven that he was no match for him and only Gottwald had been able to counter the enemy's auspicious luck.

He frowned, tossing the law draft on the table before getting up to pour himself some brandy. He tossed it back, revelling in the burn as it seared down his throat to settle warmly in his belly. As he was now, he'd never be able to slip free of the stranglehold Gottwald had him in. As he was now, he was just a pawn in another man's game.

As he was now . . .

His frown deepened as his thoughts turned to the carefully hidden research lab he'd had built underneath the Viceroy's Palace. But if he had power . . . if he could harness the power that woman could give, even Gottwald wouldn't be able to stand in his way. Hell, even Tohdoh – even Kururugi – would be nothing but toys in his grasp. They'd be so easy to crush.

If he could just get her to cooperate. . .   


	5. Holiday Cheer and a Blood Proposition

_War was a horrific, disgusting, dirty thing. It was blood and sweat and men missing limbs, crying in a ditch for their mothers. Clovis hated it. He hated it, but he endured it for a single reason. It was because this war was his father's test for him._

_That's right. The Emperor was testing him. Testing him with slaughter and mayhem. A trial by fire that was supposed to make him worthy to become a contender to the throne. No one knew about that of course. Even if they did know, they'd probably think he was lying. After all, what kind of man made his children’s rite of passage winning a war?_

_But that's what it was. Both Schneizel and Cornelia had already won wars in the Emperor's name. Odysseus had not and so, even despite being the crown prince, was not considered much of a contender for the throne. He'd seen it first hand; the subtle snub that the Emperor always gave to his first born son, the way Schneizel was always favoured over Odysseus, the way Cornelia was doted on over Guinevere._

_So it was only logical, the obvious next step, that he needed to win a war. It had all sounded so easy when he'd talked about it with his mother. After all, if Schneizel could do it, then he certainly could too. There was nothing the smarmy bastard could do that he couldn't._

_But he hadn't been prepared for this – for blood and guts and alarms sounding in the middle of the night. He hadn't been prepared for the Japanese predicting his every move and countering with brilliant strategy that his generals could do nothing against._

_This was_ **war** , _real and visceral and lacking of all sense of humanity or decency. No blow was too low, no strike uncalled for. It was dirty fighting. It was death, and it was wholly unlike anything else he had encountered in his seventeen years of life._

_Pretty preparatory schools and art lessons in Pendragon hadn't prepared him for this._

_He shrugged off his discomfort and the growing knot of tension between his shoulder blades as his paranoia grew more and more rampant by the day. He was outside. He hated being outside. Somehow the lack of a secure four walls and a roof around him made him nervous. He was vulnerable here. He could be shot by a sniper or an assassin could jump out at him without any kind of warning. And then it would all be for nought._

_But it was necessary. General Bartley had just received a shipment of the new aquatic Portman Knightmare frames and it was difficult to showcase their advanced manoeuvrability if he wasn't by a substantial body of water. Hence why he was at the port where the Portmans' transport ship was docked for this exhibition._

_The Knightmares were massive. No matter how many times he saw them, he couldn't get over their sheer size. Granted the Portmans were slightly smaller and more aerodynamic that the standard Glasgow, but they were still massive, hulking pieces of machinery made for the express purpose of slaughtering people. He hated Knightmares too._

_He watched with thinly veiled boredom as the first of the Knightmares launched into the water with an exaggerated splash before shooting away underneath the waves. He admit they were fast, but it didn't really interest him. If they'd already been given the go ahead for mass production from Pendragon, he knew they had to be splendid pieces of equipment. He didn't need to see it firsthand._

_Instead he found himself watching the crowd around himself rather than of the Knightmares he'd come here to admire. There were a few of his generals and highest ranking officials here for the exhibition as well. Along with, apparently, a green haired woman and a child._

_Ah, but those two obviously weren't guests as he watched them stealthily escape the Knightmare carrier. Stowaways, maybe. But who in their right mind would try to stow away into a war zone? It didn't make sense. No, he corrected himself. It didn't make sense unless they were spies. And those spies were trying to escape from a military vessel that had been carting around advanced Knightmare technology and were now playing witness to a top secret military exhibition. The Portman was their secret weapon against the Japanese navy._

_He scowled. They'd had a massive intelligence breach earlier that week, of which he was still reeling from the effects. He couldn't afford another one. He raised a hand, signalling to the members of his Royal Guard that were there to protect him. He had to give the stowaways credit for their sheer courage of trying to make their escape while so many people were around, but that didn't change their fate._

_A moment before he gave the order to shoot, the child stiffened, whirling around in dismay to meet his gaze. It was like he could sense the killing intent coming from his soldiers as they raised their guns to prepare to fire._

_“No!” The boy shrieked, drawing the attention of all of the officers on the wharf who had yet to notice this unfolding drama._

_And then there was a volley of gun shots as the woman dove in front of the child to protectively cradle him against her chest, exposing her back to the oncoming bullets. It was a useless gesture as the bullets passed through her and into the child anyway._

_Well, he felt a little bad about it. His mother had taught him some morals and the killing of children and women wasn't exactly approved of. But they should have known better than to spy on the Britannian military. And of course children and women made good spies because they were less suspicious and many men didn't like to kill them. How convenient for them._

_He sighed and glanced away, forcibly erasing the image from his mind's eye. He didn't really want to remember the woman, bloody and slumped over the body of the child. He'd seen enough gruesome things since he'd come to this country, that this one wasn't particularly terrifying._

_“MAO!”_

_The shriek drew his gaze back to the scene, where the woman was desperately trying to get a response out of the child._

_“Mao! Open your eyes, Mao! Don't die on me! You're not allowed to die! I didn't give you Geass so you could die on me now! Wake up!” She shouted, distraught and heedless of her own wounds._

_But the child didn't move, already dead from the mess of bloody wounds peppering his torso. She continued shrieking and sobbing over the child until one of his men finally, mercifully, put a bullet in her head._

_The silence was deafening and ominous as no one knew exactly what to say. These things happened in the military. These things happened all the time. Women and children were slaughtered during a war just as easily as men were slaughtered, and with just as little remorse._

_He glanced back at the water, at the gracefully streaking shape of the Portman skimming beneath the waves. On second thought, maybe he did like Knightmares. It was true that they were machines made for slaughter, but at least within one of those monstrous contraptions they didn't have to hear the screams of their victims._

_He took a deep, steadying breath. Despite his best effort to forget about them, somehow he knew the sound of her shrieks would follow him for the rest of his life. He didn't turn back again until the surprised murmurs of his soldiers drew his attention to the pair of corpses again._

_One of his men had gone over to confirm the kills, but had stopped dead in his tracks mere feet away as the woman twitched and then slowly began to unsteadily stand._

_How was that even possible? She's been shot multiple times! She'd been shot in the head!_

_Her eyes narrowed into a malicious glare and his soldier once again raised his gun and fired - two more bullets at near point blank right into her face. Stillness and silence reigned for another few seconds before the soldier continued on his task and checked for any signs of life. The boy was definitely dead, but the moment the soldier touched the woman, he let out the most pained, terrified wail he'd ever heard coming from a human._

_Other soldiers from his Royal Guard moved forward to drag the wailing man away, while others still put more bullets in the woman's corpse. But any time one of them tried to confirm the kill, they were met with the same fate as the first. One of them said she was still alive. He couldn't see how it was possible after the number of times they'd shot her, but somehow his men continued to be incapacitated._

_“Sedate her.” He ordered._

_There were medical crews on standby just in case something happened during the exhibition. Mere moments after he issued the order, the paramedics rushed forward with auto-injectors in hand. One of them suffered the same fate as his soldiers, shrieking in sudden horror, but the other was fine, either because he hadn't touched her body directly or because the sedative from the first paramedic was already taking effect._

_He found himself drawing close to the scene, all thoughts of aquatic Knightmares forgotten in the wake of this new curiosity. It was like the woman just couldn't die. And judging from the half dozen flailing soldiers on the wharf, it seemed like she could drive people mad too._

_Interesting._

_“Take her to the St. Darwin Medical Research Facility.” He ordered. “And keep her sedated.”_

_He'd found something new to entertain him. He'd leave the Portmans to his generals. They knew more about them and the best way to put them to use anyway. Besides, if he could figure out just what made this woman so indestructible, and if he could transfer that ability to his soldiers, the Japanese were as good as dead._

_She just might be the key to ending this war and seeing him acknowledged as a contender for the throne._

 

***

Naoto frowned as Amos prepared to serve him tea. “No.” He said, earning another glare from the man.

He was currently feigning sickness in order to devote more time to this endeavour. He'd received a phone call from Lelouch a couple days ago, much to his surprise. Lelouch had never called him directly before. But it was too much to expect a son of the Prime Minister to come back to Tokyo, or to send a courier for the express purpose of telling him to hurry up. The call had been brief and had consisted of only those two words, but he'd recognized the young man's voice.

He had a time limit now, which meant his days had to be devoted completely to training Amos to be at least remotely competent.

_“_ What, pray tell, is the problem?” Amos asked stiffly, then remembered himself and belatedly added an honorific. “Master.”

“You must always serve from the right. I don't want you on the left. It's oppressive and just . . .wrong. Any noble will pick up on it.” He explained. “You add the sugar and milk before adding the tea and before you pour, you must always place two fingers on the lid of the teapot. If the lid comes off and spills, you'll have a huge mess on your hands and Gottwald will be furious.”

“Of course ... Master.” Amos said, moving instead to his right to begin the process again.

“Your hesitation shows your resentment.” He pointed out, letting his hand fly. What should have been a backhand to the cheek was stopped midway by an iron grip around his wrist.

Naoto frowned, pinning the man next to him with a glare. He did not beat his servants. He'd never laid a hand on Sophie . . . well that was a lie; he'd had his hands all over her. But he'd never hurt her. However, he knew not all of the nobility shared his disdain for abuse. Knowing Gottwald's fanaticism, he expected the man's hand to fly more often than reprimands were given.

“Tell me, Amos,” He began conversationally. “What do you think would happen to you if you did this to Gottwald. I'm curious what you think. Do you think he'll ask you politely to unhand him? Do you?”

“You're not Gottwald.” Amos replied, matching his glare.

“I'm training you to deal with Gottwald. And I'll tell you what would likely happen if you dared to treat that man in this fashion.” He said, pausing for dramatic effect. “He'd have you dragged out and beaten. That is, of course, if you were lucky.”

Gottwald was a dangerous man. He killed for a living. That was his job. And during the course of his military career, hundreds, if not thousands, of people had to have died by his hands. He'd think nothing of crushing some lowly servant.

Amos grit his teeth, but released his wrist nonetheless. As soon as he was free he let it fly again, and this time it connected with a loud crack. It was hard enough to sting, certainly, but nowhere near hard enough to cause any damage. It wouldn't bruise, hell it was barely even red.

“Now, continue with the tea.” He ordered. “One sugar and a bit of milk.”

“Of course, Master.” Amos said smoothly, scooping a spoonful of sugar into the china cup that was sitting on the table in front of him.

“Better.” He acknowledged. The man had hardly hesitated this time and his resentment was barely audible despite the fury he was no doubt feeling.

Amos finished serving him tea and waited while Naoto tentatively took a sip of it. He'd never really been much of a tea drinker anyway. He much preferred coffee, but he'd seen Gottwald drink it before and so therefore it was a necessary skill to learn.

He set the cup back in its saucer with slight disgust. “You let it steep for too long, but otherwise it's fine. The flavour isn't terrible.”

Amos bowed in response, straight backed with his arms at his sides – he'd had a lot of practice at that over the last few days – before picking up the tea tray and slipping away back into the kitchen.

The bastard learned quickly, it was just his pride that continued to get in the way. He couldn't necessarily blame him. Submission was not an easy thing to fake. He knew firsthand what it was like to lower himself to something he abhorred. But if they could get over that pride, there was no reason to suggest that they couldn't complete this training within two weeks. That ought to be able to meet with Lelouch's deadline.

He'd just have to feign sick for a little while.

 

***

 

Lelouch hated these kinds of events. They were at war; the Britannians had been steadily pushing them back over the last eight years, they'd recently suffered a major defeat and the Japanese in the Britannian zone were facing the onset of new, oppressive legislation.

And he was at a Christmas party.

Of course he understood that it was important not to let the war dominate the lives of the people. They had to lead by example. They had to show the people under their rule that they could still live their lives like normal people and that they could still celebrate holidays without guilt, even when their country was in shambles.

But he had so many other things that he could have been doing. He had hours and hours of video footage on Gottwald, from press releases to surveillance footage that needed to be gone through. Before he ever approached the man, he'd know as much as was possible about him.

But getting to that stage would take many hours, and he was wasting his time here tagging along in Suzaku's shadow as everyone from Generals to businessmen approached the heir to wish him Merry Christmas.

“Kururugi-sama,”

“Suzaku-sama,”

“Ah, our future Prime Minister!”

It was always like this when they were forced to attend events. Everyone crowded around Suzaku, hoping to gain his favour or just to be remembered by him. Lelouch always watched from the sidelines. After all, few of these sycophants knew who he was. It was only those within the Prime Minister's inner circle, and those that it suited his purposes to know, who knew he'd been adopted by the Prime Minister. And of those few, even fewer knew that he was actually a Britannian prince. So it wasn't strange that he was ignored, even in a setting like this.

Suzaku was currently being chatted up by an up-and-comer. Sakai was extremely charismatic and boasted substantial trade agreements with the Chinese Federation. China was a staunch supporter of their war effort, even if they couldn't afford to make a public stand on it. But if it hadn't been for the silent support from China, Japan would have collapsed years ago from a lack of resources.

The Japanese in Hokkaido still had rich Sakuradite resources despite losing access to the most profitable mines near Mount Fuji. With those resources, they were able to not only provide for their Knightmare research program, but they were also able to trade with China for the goods they couldn't manufacture for themselves.

And a large majority of those goods coming into Japan went through Sakai's import company these days.

“Within the next year, I'll be able to double the size of the company's fleet. And by that time, I'll be able to barter for something particularly good. I've heard that the Chinese are developing a new Knightmare frame.” Sakai boasted.

Not that it would matter. Lelouch already had those schematics from the Chinese. He'd negotiated for them with the High Eunuchs, using a combination of blackmail and charm, a little over six months ago when they were just being developed.

They were nothing special. The Britannian designs were still more advanced, especially the new models from that engineer Asplund that they'd had the good fortune to steal a few months back. The Lancelot and Gawain were unparalleled machines, but finding a pilot capable of keeping control over the finicky control systems seemed to be the problem, especially in the Lancelot. Suzaku kept insisting that he could pilot it, but for political reasons, he would never be allowed to pilot a Britannian made machine.

As for the Gawain, it still hadn't been completely constructed at the time they'd stolen it. At the moment, their research and development teams were looking it over and trying to figure out just how the Britannian engineer had hoped to complete it, though Lelouch didn't harbour any more hopes of finding a suitable pilot (or pilots, in that machine's case) for it than he did for the Lancelot.

It was quite stupid, actually. Surely a man as genius as Lloyd Asplund wouldn't have made an advanced frame that was impossible to pilot? That was an amateur mistake. He'd expected better from the man. After all, he was the only person their own technical genius Rakshata had ever considered worthy of being her rival.

“That's good to hear, Sakai-san. Do you know anything about the design?” Suzaku asked with a pleased and enthusiastic expression on his face, despite already having seen the schematics in question.

Sycophantic idiot, trying to buy Suzaku with months old intelligence.

“I do, actually. I've heard a couple rumours about it in the course of my business details. Perhaps you could send your attendant to get us some drinks while I tell you about it? It might take a while.” Sakai said, glancing at him momentarily before sending him a dismissive gesture. It was practically an order.

Of course, what else was he supposed to think of a Britannian hanging around Suzaku's shoulder that didn't contribute anything to the conversation?

“Ah, he's not-” Suzaku began, but Lelouch cut him off.

“Of course. I'll return shortly with some champagne.” He said, bowing with mock reverence.

He excused himself, making his way to where servers were pouring out flutes of champagne to celebrate the holiday season. Despite Christmas being a foreign holiday, it was still widely celebrated across Japan (and mostly in the European fashion). It was a time to celebrate with friends and family; an excuse to gather in the winter and share food and drink. Whatever religious connotations that had once accompanied the holiday had never really been important during his life time. Even back in Britannia, it had been about Christmas trees and presents more than the more archaic, traditional holiday values.

To his great misfortune, Munakata was acquiring a drink at the same time. For a moment he thought of waiting, blending in with the crowd of merry party-goers until the man had gone on his way, but ultimately he didn't like the thought of hiding. He could be discreet when he needed to be, indeed one of the reasons he'd been able to survive here with only this level of harassment was due to his discreet nature, but this time he hadn't done anything wrong.

There was no reason to hide like a criminal when the man already suspected him of treason. Avoidance was only an admission of guilt, so he straightened his shoulders and continued, snagging two glasses of the sweet champagne that had just been poured to go out on a server's tray.

“Munakata-san.” He greeted politely, meeting the man's suspicious glance with his own brand of beguiling innocence. He smiled widely. “Merry Christmas.”

The man's eyes narrowed in suspicion and Lelouch's smile widened even further for no other reason than because he knew it would piss him off. But as long as he was only annoying, there was nothing the man could do. And there wasn't a scenario in existence that would cause him to betray the Kururugis or the Japanese. So he was safe.

“Lelouch.” Munakata said with a barely suppressed sneer. This man certainly wasn't the only one to refuse to address him with an honorific unless in front of company, especially not amongst those who knew what he really was, but it still got on his nerves.

“About your discussion with Suzaku the other day, please forgive him.” He said seriously, dropping the obnoxious facade. Since the man had deigned to at least offer him a greeting, he ought to clean up Suzaku's mess while he was here.

“Of course. There was nothing to forgive Suzaku-sama for. He merely puts too much trust in unreliable sources.” The man said loftily.

“Of course.” Lelouch demurred. “I shall work harder to become a 'reliable source', Munakata-san. For now, I will simply tell you this to put you at ease; that I exist solely to help Suzaku and Japan. I have no other ambitions.”

“We'll see.” Munakata said with a frown.

“You shall.” Lelouch promised. “Now, I should get this champagne to Suzaku and Sakai-san. That is, of course, unless you deem me too unreliable to bear a cup for Suzaku?”

Munakata scowled at him but didn't answer, instead taking his own glass of champagne before turning away and delving back into the crowd of party goers. Lelouch watched him go for a moment, slightly peeved by the dismissal, but what else had he expected from the man? That Munakata had even deigned to speak to him at all when it wasn't necessary was rare.

“Ah, how thoughtful of you, Lelouch-sama.” A voice interrupted before he could make good on his own escape and make his way back to Suzaku. “You must have known I was thirsty.”

He forced himself not to grimace and greeted the speaker with a charming smile instead as he handed one of the glasses to her. “Of course, Kaguya-sama.”

As far as she was concerned, she was already his betrothed. It seemed that years ago, before the invasion, the Sumeragi family had intended to make another tie with the Kururugi family by having Kaguya marry Suzaku when they came of age.

That idea had quickly been traded out for the altogether more practical one of having Lelouch marry her instead after he'd been adopted by the Prime Minister. They'd still get their tie to the Kururugi family and as an added bonus, a tie to Britannian royalty as well. They'd use any means they could to shackle him to Japan even more than he already was. A Japanese wife would help to ensure that he never betrayed Japan to his home country.

And unlike so many other noble girls, Kaguya already knew what he was. There would be no nasty surprises after their vows were said.

Of course, all that being said, he'd never actually agreed to such a betrothal. And Genbu had never once mentioned their supposed engagement to him. In fact, everything he'd heard about it was from the girl standing beside him. So it seemed to him that his adopted father was at least still wary of forcing such a situation on him.

“A toast then, Lelouch-sama. To happy holidays and another happy year together.” She said brightly, raising her glass to him.

“Well said.” He said affably, raising his glace to match her own. “Merry Christmas, Kaguya-sama.”

She smiled slyly before sidling up to his side. “So, you were taking this opportunity of joyous festivities to cause more trouble, I see.”

“I have no idea what you mean.” He countered.

“Munakata-san.” She said, by means of explanation.

He frowned. Really, there was nothing to say. Anyone who had seen them talking together would automatically have assumed that they were arguing. Munakata had never been quiet in his dislike.

“It was necessary.” He answered eventually.

“How many times are you going to put yourself at risk to fix Suzaku-kun's mistakes?” She chided.

“As many times as I need to.” He answered immediately.

Kaguya heaved an annoyed sigh. “Honestly, he should be more tactful. Doesn't he know that you're the one going around and cleaning up all of the messes he makes?”

He smiled then, a strained laugh escaping from his lips. Did Suzaku know? No, probably not. Suzaku was too confident that no one would dare to go against him. In many ways, it reminded him of life back in Pendragon. No one dared to raise their hand against the royal family but terrorists and enemies of the state.

But Japan's line of succession was much too young for such arrogance.

She gave an annoyed huff when it became apparent that he wasn't about to answer. “Come escort me for a while.” She suggested instead. “I always hate coming to these kinds of things alone.”

“I'm sorry, I need to get back to Suzaku.” He answered, earning another reproachful look. “Well, I can only clean up the messes that I'm aware of, right?”

She laughed at that and gave her permission to go. He smiled and charmingly and kissed her hand before turning away and heading back towards Suzaku after snagging another two glasses of champagne. Just because he had no intention of marrying her, didn't mean that he could afford to shun her friendship. He was acutely aware of the number of times having his name associated with the prominent Sumeragi family had been to his benefit.

Sakai greeted him with altogether more respect than he had when dismissing him to go get drinks a few minutes ago. Knowing Suzaku as well as he did, he knew his brother wouldn't have let such an assumption go, no matter who the mistaken party was. So it made the continuing conversation even less interesting than it had been before.

Suddenly Sakai had two Kururugis to suck up to instead of one and it only made Lelouch even less interested in the conversation. It was best to observe people when they didn't know he was watching them. Once they knew they had eyes on them, no matter how infrequently, they would always sneak a glance of at him and modify their behaviour to appeal to a Britannian that had been raised by Japanese.

Ah well, he'd gotten enough of a feel for the man during his earlier conversation to suffice. For now. And if Sakai became any more influential than he already was (after all, warranting an invite to the Prime Minister's Christmas Party meant that he was someone to watch), then he'd have to go meet with the man again and collect more data.

He didn't just keep an eye on the Britannian side of the country. He also had eyes and ears scattered across Hokkaido to alert him of anything and everything that might be of some importance. After all, he could only see Suzaku at the head of a united Japan if he managed to keep the small fraction of the country they still had under control. Anyone who dared to threaten the Kururugi family, whether they be Britannians or Japanese political rivals, would be dealt with firmly and efficiently.

He wasn't one to shy away from getting his hands dirty.

 

***

 

“Here! Taste it!” Milly ordered, holding up a mixing beater in her face.

Kallen made a disgusted grimace. “You can't eat raw gingersnap dough. It's gross.” She said, leaving the explanation for her denial at that rather than because she didn't really trust Milly's baking skills (which was actually the larger concern).

“Sure you can!” Milly insisted, swiping her finger across the beater before popping it into her mouth. She grimaced a moment later and turned back to the dark brown mixture in the bowl in front of her with a frown. “Hmm . . . needs more . . . cinnamon!” She insisted before dumping in more of the potent spice.

Kallen smothered her sigh. For as long as she'd known Milly, her friend had always been like this. Instead of commenting on the blatant misuse of a spice that probably wouldn't improve the taste of the cookies at all, she turned back to her own bowl of dough. Shortbread dough probably tasted even worse than gingersnap dough when it was raw, but there was nothing they could do about it now. Milly had insisted that they do some Christmas baking and they'd already commit to making these kinds of cookies.

“Hey, Kallen, have you applied to a university yet?” Milly asked absently, still frowning at the bowl in front of her.

“Not yet. I'm waiting until our exams are over so they can get my most recent grades.” She admit.

That wasn't, of course, to say that she hadn't already filled out the application forms. They were sitting on her desk at home, in perfect order, just awaiting a stamp and her most recent transcripts before sending them away in the mail. Those applications were accompanied by a dozen or so scholarship applications, all of which were also fully filled out and only awaiting her transcripts. She wouldn't be relying on the Stadtfeld name for her university education. She'd be relying on her own academic merit.

“Which university do you want to go to?” Milly asked curiously, now adding a variety of other spices into the mix. Kallen simply shook her head at the sight.

“Ashford U. I figured as the valedictorian of Ashford Academy, there's no way they wouldn't take me.” She answered.

“Really?” Milly asked in surprise. “I thought you might have chosen one further away, like back in the homeland, or something. I'm going there too. Well, I haven't applied yet, but I know I'll get in. Grandfather also sits on the Board of Directors for the university and he owns the land the university was built on, so there's no way they'll turn me away.”

“Looks like we'll be stuck together for another four years after all.” Kallen sighed with mock disappointment as she began spooning out her dough into little blobs on the cookie sheet. Much as Milly sometimes pushed at her buttons, she was still her best friend. She really didn't know what she'd be like if Milly hadn't suddenly decided to take her under her wing back in junior high.

Milly hesitated for a moment before sighing. “Are you sure Ashford U isn't too close? I mean, a university in Pendragon would probably be better for you. And you could stay with your dad there.”

Kallen frowned. She'd never leave Japan. Especially not for the Britannian homeland. “Why do you think Ashford U isn't good for me? Or are you finally tired of me and were hoping to get rid of me after graduation?” She accused, deliberately mistakenly. She knew what Milly was getting at, but she'd be damned if she openly admit to it.

“No!” Milly protested heatedly. “Of course that's not it. I hope that we'll always be best friends like this. But . . . I know what's happening to you, Kallen. I just think some distance might be better for you. If you're still so close to home, I don't think anything will change.”

“I don't know what you think is happening to me, but you're wrong. And I've always wanted to go to Ashford U, ever since my class went there once on a field trip in elementary school. So I'm not going to change my mind.” She said firmly.

“I'm wrong?” Milly asked, eyes narrowed into a glare. “You show up to school covered in bruises, but never in places that are easy to see. What am I supposed to think? Do you know how scared I get when you go absent for a day or two?”

She averted her gaze, focusing solely on the squishy dough in front of her. How was she supposed to respond when Milly laid it out like that? When she said it like that, it was obvious to anyone what was happening to her at home.

“I've thought about calling the police, you know?” Milly continued when it became apparently that she wasn't going to respond.

Kallen jerked in surprise. “Don't!” She exclaimed.

If the police ever showed up at the Stadtfeld estate, she'd be dead. Her stepmother would never forgive her for daring to tarnish the family name with such a scandal. It would only make things worse. And when she was this close to the finish line, she couldn't afford for it to get worse.

Milly watched her quietly for a moment before sighing. “Are you planning on staying in the dorms when you go to university?” She asked instead.

“Of course.” Kallen answered. That much was obvious. There was no way in hell she was staying even a minute longer than she had to in the Stadtfeld estate.

“We should get an apartment together instead. Dorms are too noisy, especially first year dorms. You won't be able to study well in them.” Milly suggested.

That sounded . . . that sounded like a beautiful idea. And if it was their own place, she wouldn't have to worry about the school administration granting access to the place to her parents. She could really cut ties with her family.

“Sure.” She said with a small smile. “Roomie.”

Milly grinned broadly and began hurriedly scooping out her dough onto her own cookie sheet. The gingersnaps would be anything but uniform in size and shape. “Let's hurry and finish this so we can start looking at apartments together.” Milly suggested excitedly despite the fact that it was still months away from the beginning of their first year in university and that neither of them had technically applied yet.

 

***

 

Clovis made his way silently and stealthily through the corridors of the Viceroy's Palace. At this time of night, most people had gone home or were sleeping in their quarters. Even Gottwald, that bastard, had returned to his lavish estate a few blocks away. Aside from a handful of night-time attendants to see to anything he would want in the evening and the palace's security, the halls were dead and quiet.

It was the only time he felt comfortable doing this. The only time he could be certain that no one of importance would catch sight of him and get curious as to just what he was keeping behind this secret passage behind the stairwell in the west wing.

He glanced around himself, ensuring that there really wasn't anyone else down here at the moment before turning a knob behind a nearby painting of his father, playing with a 'dead' light switch five times in rapid succession and applying some pressure to a piece of the panelling that was indistinguishable from the rest of the wall beside him. If someone didn't know exactly where the secret entrance was, there was no way they'd ever be able to find it.

He closed up the panel behind him and flicked on his flashlight. This part of the tunnel to the underground lab was kept dark to prevent any light from escaping into the Viceroy Palace's corridor. He took the stairs down slowly. He wasn't in a hurry and, in all honesty, it was probably just a waste of time. But he kept hoping that someday there would be a breakthrough. That if he came back enough, if he was persistent enough, that someday he'd get what he wanted.

When he arrived in the lab proper, he found that his researchers were already shut down for the night. But that was to be expected since it was currently a little past two in the morning. Like always, the subject of their research, the woman from the port all those years ago, was restrained in the center of the research area under harsh medical lights.

Her eyes were closed, so she was either asleep or the sedatives the researchers had given her earlier had yet to wear off like they always did. Doctor Nietzsche, his lead researcher, had told him that in the entire eight years that they'd kept her here, no sedative they'd tried had been able to keep her under for more than an hour or two. Even boosting the dosage to lethal levels had done nothing but kill her and let her revive perfectly fine again a few minutes later.

He sighed tiredly and adjusted the examination table she was strapped to to an upright position. “Wake up.” He ordered.

Her eyes cracked open, slivers of amber glaring at him before closing again. He scowled.

“I said, _wake up_.” He said again, more forcefully.

This time she opened her eyes fully and kept them open, staring coolly and emotionlessly straight at him.

“Tell me about Geass.” He ordered. On the day he'd first captured her, she'd been screaming something about Geass to the child she'd been with. It was the last time he'd heard her voice. The last time she'd spoken at all, according to Nietzche.

She stared back impassively, obviously not going to answer.

“Listen, I'm sorry about the child all those years ago but it’s hardly my fault. I intended to send you off together. It’s only because you're such a freak that that didn't happen. So just help me out here and I'll let you go.” He bargained.

Of course, that was probably a lie. Years of concentrated research had granted him hints of rumours of top level research being overseen by the Emperor that dealt with the phenomenon of Geass. He didn't have solid facts or evidence or anything that would be remotely useful to discovering the nature of Geass, but what he did have was an immortal girl who had said she'd given Geass, a subject of Imperial interest, to a child.

He wanted to know more. If he could figure out how to harness whatever this power she had was, he'd be unstoppable.

She didn't move. She didn't even acknowledge that he'd spoken. She just stared at him with the same immutable expression as always and . . . and . . . his patience was shot. How many more years would he have to waste on this woman? It had been eight years already. Eight years and he'd never even gotten so much as a word from her.

His hand flew, connecting with a hard slap across her cheek. She didn't move. She barely even registered the blow, though of course compared to the way he'd been having her tortured for the last eight years (in the name of science, of course) a slap was nothing. Still, it grated on his already thin and tattered patience.

“Stop ignoring me, you stubborn bitch.” He snapped. “If you don't tell me what I need to know, I'll really kill you. I'll find some way to definitely kill you, you miserable waste of space. So tell me about Geass!”

The woman licked her lips slightly to wet them before moving her lips.

He felt his heart jump in his chest. She was speaking. For the first time in eight years, she was speaking! He leaned forward unconsciously, keeping his face close to hers so that he could hear what she had to say.

“What did you say?” He asked breathlessly.

“I said, try it. I'll outlast you, Clovis la Britannia.”

His face contorted in rage as she stared levelly back at him. Try it? Did she think he wouldn't? Did she think he was just uttering useless threats? He would break her. He would break her if it was the last thing he did!


	6. Family Values

_“No, you have to fold it here, Kallen.” Naoto said with a smile, patiently taking her hands and guiding them in the proper way to make an origami frog. He leaned back on his elbow in the grass beside her, watching as she diligently folded the paper with clumsy, childish fingers._

_“Like this?” She asked uncertainly, showing him the next fold._

_“Like that.” He nodded encouragingly._

_She grinned to herself as she put the last, final folds into the paper, holding the final product up on display in the palm of her hand. “Ta-da!” She boasted._

_Naoto chuckled and reached out a hand. “And now, when you go like this,” He said, pressing on the back half of the green paper frog. “It will jump.” He finished, releasing his finger to let the paper creation spring from her hand._

_Her eyes widened in wonder. Her brother was amazing! He was magical! He could make even a paper frog move. It was like something from a movie or a fairy tale!_

_He laughed at her expression, ruffling her hair as she scooped the origami frog up just like she'd been shown to catch real frogs. “Do it again!” She insisted, holding it out to him._

_“You do it.” He suggested instead._

_“But I . . . I'm not . . .” She said hesitantly._

_“Just like how I showed you.” He encouraged, as patient and doting as ever. “Put your finger here.” He instructed, guiding her other hand to the back of the paper frog. “Now, let go.”_

_The frog made a little hop before wobbling sideways off her hand._

_Naoto was really really amazing._

_“What are you doing?” A voice demanded behind them._

_Naoto moved lightning fast to snatch up the origami frog and crush it in his fist._

_“Hey!” She protested in alarm._

_“Nothing, Father.” Naoto said quickly, shoving the remains of her frog into his pocket as he stood up._

_She glanced up at the man standing in the garden with them. Papa was frowning at her. But Papa was always frowning at her. He was nothing like Naoto who was always playing with her and teaching her things, and nothing like Mama who would always scoop her up and twirl around with her before hugging her tightly. Papa always just . . . frowned._

_“Do you think you have time for this nonsense?”_

_Naoto's eyes darkened and he bowed his head. “No, Father.”_

_“Then get back inside and learn something useful. Your tutor has been waiting for you for half an hour.”_

_“Yes, Father. I'm sorry.” Naoto said immediately, heading back towards the house without even so much as a backwards glance._

_She stayed where she was, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout on her lips. She'd make another frog for Naoto and there was nothing Papa could say to make her change her mind._

_He met her petulant gaze for a moment before pursing his lips and ruffling her hair. “Go find your mother.”_

_She hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of the origami paper she'd brought out with her, working up the nerve to disobey him. But . . . she didn't want to be spanked again._

_She frowned, fighting back tears. “Yes, Papa.” She said quietly in defeat as she got to her feet, clutching the origami paper to her chest._

_He frowned at her again before snatching the paper out of her hands, crumpling it in his disregard. “Go.”_

_She took a deep breath. Naoto hated it when she cried so she definitely wouldn't cry. She definitely wouldn't. Instead, she balled her hands into little fists and ran across the garden back to the house where her mother would no doubt be waiting for her._

 

***

 

Amos took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and calmly and not letting it shake his composure. He remained expressionless as he waited on that bastard Naoto. He could do this. There was no way he was going to fail this mission. Lord Lelouch had introduced him as his best infiltrator and con man. It was a title he took pride in.

So this was nothing.

He'd definitely get the hang of this demeaning role before the deadline and he'd play it out flawlessly. He'd fooled nobles into thinking he was one of them in the past. If he could do that, then he could definitely fool them into thinking he was nothing but a lowly servant.

Naoto rose from his office chair, covering a yawn with his hand, and Amos bowed stiffly at the waist. “Is there anything you need, Master?”

“Coffee.” The nobleman ordered as he stretched. “The cafeteria is on the second floor.”

“As you wish.” He answered immediately, bowing again to excuse himself before turning for the door.

Originally, it seemed like Naoto had never intended to take him out of the penthouse apartment they'd been sharing. At least not until his training was completed. But there had been a minor emergency at work that 'Lord Nathan Stadtfeld' had needed to attend to personally, and so instead of leaving him alone and losing a day of precious training time, he'd been brought along.

But already his training was getting close to being complete. Naoto didn't reprimand or correct him nearly as often as he had over the first few days and he was able to intuitively adapt even to situations he'd never encountered before now that he'd gotten the basics down. Just thinking of the possibility of this relatively safe buffer period coming to a close sent equal parts of fear and excitement through him.

There would be no second chances with Gottwald. Gottwald wouldn't send him a sharp reprimand like Naoto if he made a mistake. It would blow his cover and let down Lelouch. And he couldn't afford that.

He may not have known the face of the man that had recruited him to spy for Japan, but that faceless entity had always had his respect. The invitation had come at what was probably the lowest point of his life. His wife had just given birth to their daughter and he'd just lost his job after his employer had found out that she was Japanese. He had been a small time actor with a promising career ahead of him, but after being black listed by his company, he'd known those dreams were over.

He'd spent the next couple months barely scraping in enough money to pay for his wife and the baby at minimum wage, menial jobs that he'd always lost the moment they found out about his family. In the end, he'd resorted to thievery. Identity theft, credit card fraud and more conventionally outright robbing people. He'd conned people out of their money left, right and center, disguised as charity donation collectors or utility workers, weaselling people out of their money and personal information, risking his life and liberty to ensure that his family were clothed and fed.

And then the offer had come. An Eleven courier had approached him in the middle of a job, giving him away, damned near getting him arrested when his target got wise about what was going on. He'd taken the letter and run, losing track of the courier within seconds of taking it.

When he'd finally gotten to somewhere safe and quiet and alone, he'd read the letter and found an offer that he couldn't refuse. The promise of safe passage to Sapporo for himself and his family, the guarantee of a generous fixed salary that would see to it his wife and daughter had everything they could possibly need, and the promise of protection from persecution for himself. In return, all he had to do was put his skills to use for the sake of the Japanese Intelligence Agency.

He'd been in Hokkaido with his wife and daughter in tow within the week. And now they lived in a nice three bedroom house in a good neighbourhood. They had three square meals a day, clothes on their backs and everything they needed to live more than comfortably. And he had the added security of knowing that even if something happened to him, that they wouldn't lose that lifestyle.

He was really grateful to Lelouch. The Prime Minister's adopted son, his handler and the one who signed his pay cheques, had really turned his life around. If it hadn't been for him, he would probably have been caught by now. He'd have probably been rotting in a Britannian prison while his family starved on the streets, or worse.

So he definitely wouldn't let him down. Especially not when Lelouch had come personally to brief him on this assignment. This was obviously more important than any other mission he'd been sent on. So he would obviously put the most effort he could into it, even if his instructor grated on his every nerve.

He got to the cafeteria and let himself into the 'staff only' space behind the counter, rifling around in the cupboards until he came out with a silver tray.

“What are you doing back here?” A heavyset woman demanded sternly.

He smirked to himself for a moment. This would be a good opportunity to practice without Naoto breathing down his neck.

“My Master has asked for coffee. I can't serve it to him without a tray.” He said as though it were obvious.

“I don't care about that. You can't just come back here and steal our dishes.” The cafeteria lady snapped.

“Stealing?” He asked, scandalized.

“Yeah. That's Stadtfeld Industries property you're pilfering.” The woman snapped. “That's called corporate theft. You think just because the company is so big that we won't notice when things go missing?”

“It will be returned when my Master is finished with his beverage.” He said, turning away from her and heading towards the coffee pot.

Maybe he was having a little bit too much fun with this.

She actually went so far as to grab his arm. Where normally he would have immediately brushed the restraining arm off of his person, instead, he allowed it to hold him in place. A servant didn't fight. That was one of the lessons Naoto had made sure to drill into him.

“I said you couldn't take it. I don't care who your master is, that tray belongs to Stadtfeld Industries and Lord Nathan. If things go missing from here then I'm going to have to be the one who has to explain it.” She said, digging her fingers into his elbow.

“Then you shouldn't have a problem, as my Master is Lord Nathan Stadtfeld.” He revealed, watching as she pulled her hand away in surprise. “And now I'm late to bring him coffee.”

“You should have said.” She grumbled before leading the way to the coffee pot and pulling down a matching black ceramic coffee cup and saucer along with a silver carafe before dumping what was in the coffee pot out and starting a fresh batch.

They waited in silence as the coffee brewed, her with her arms crossed over her chest as he began setting out the coffee cup and saucer she'd brought down onto the tray he'd thieved out of the cupboard, along with sugar since he knew Naoto didn't take cream.

“Lord Nathan has never brought his servants to work before.” The woman finally said, a bit standoffishly.

“Master is feeling unwell at the moment and wanted someone at hand wait on him while he's attending to his work.” He answered naturally, adding a stir spoon to the tray.

The woman made a “hmph” sound, but didn't comment further as the coffee finished brewing and she poured it into the carafe herself. When she set it on the tray for him, she turned away. “Make sure he drinks something other than just coffee if he's feeling sick.” She instructed, setting out a bottle of carbonated water that she took from the fridge on the tray as well.

“Of course. Please excuse me.” He said politely, hefting up the tray to balance on his arm. One of his most common jobs was playing the part of a waiter; they could get in close, were often disregarded and could slip something into the target's food if needed. So this part of the mission was no problem for him, even if he did have to balance the tray up fifteen floors in an elevator.

Naoto was on a call when he returned to the office and began setting out the coffee cup in front of him, serving just as he'd been taught to serve tea. The noble watched closely but didn't comment, settling for a satisfied smirk and gesture of dismissal when he executed the task perfectly instead.

He'd be ready for Gottwald in no time.

 

***

 

There.

Lelouch rested his chin on his hand, eyes focused for every minute detail he could pick up from the grainy surveillance footage he was watching.

There again. That arrogant dismissal in a little wave of the man's hand towards one of Clovis' servants. It was worse than he'd thought. It seemed Jeremiah Gottwald was even more influential than he'd first anticipated. To dismiss a prince's servant . . . no one should have had that right except for the prince himself.

He wondered just what leverage Gottwald had managed to get over Clovis, and if it was something he could exploit himself. But then again, it might just have been that his former brother was a spineless coward and Gottwald was anything but.

Still, however more difficult Gottwald's influence made his mission, it was an undeniable fact that it made the man even more useful and even more necessary to their cause. He wondered if the Prime Minister had already suspected the degree of control Gottwald had over the Viceroy, or if they were just lucky.

The footage ended when Gottwald and the rest of the Viceroy's Royal Guard escorted Clovis away. He immediately opened the next video file, this time surveillance of a public party. Clovis was devotedly holding up his side of the conversation with a handful of nobles, but it didn't disguise the brief, fleeting glances the prince sent Gottwald's way, almost as though seeking approval for whatever he'd just said. There was no audio, but he didn't need it to know what they were probably discussing. The lords attending to the Viceroy were Reimer, Platt and Ethan, the same men who had proposed the new registration laws.

He checked the time stamp on the video, finding it dated to just over six months ago. That was before the laws had been proposed. At this point, the men had probably been feeling out the Viceroy to hear his thoughts on the matter. And if Clovis had been taking his answers from Gottwald, it meant turning the man against the proposed law would also be a difficult task.

And he was the one who would have to execute that task.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized the errors of his proposed approach. Even if he succeeded, Gottwald wouldn't be loyal to Japan. If – no, rather when – he succeeded, Gottwald would be loyal to him alone. That was how this operation was designed. He would gain leverage over the man only by admitting to his former identity as a prince, only by acknowledging his identity as Marianne vi Britannia's son.

And that would be a very bad thing for him.

He had enemies around that even Genbu Kururugi couldn't fully protect him from. And for most of them, it was always that niggling doubt about his loyalty that set them against him. After all, how could a prince really turn against his own family, against his own nation and inheritance?

When he came back with Gottwald, a loyal Britannian soldier that would bow, not to Japan and not to the Prime Minister, but to him alone, it would only make his life more difficult.

“ _I trust you.”_

He forced away the memory of how the Prime Minister's faith had inexplicably warmed him. Genbu's faith in him wouldn't make his problems go away.

He frowned, forcing his thoughts back to the present and rewinding the video he was supposed to have been watching. He didn't get far into it before there was a knock on his office's door.

“Come.” He ordered, putting the video on pause. He shot out of his seat a second later upon seeing who his visitor was, giving a stiff salute. “Sir.”

Mori Akihito was his commanding officer. He was the man that had overseen almost all of Lelouch's actions since he'd joined the Intelligence Agency four and a half years ago and fell nicely into that category of enemies that would be none too pleased with him bringing in Gottwald like this.

Mori ran an appraising eye over him, picking out details others would no doubt miss. Whatever else he had to say about the man, he was a genius when it came to rooting out secrets, interpreting body language and picking up small details. He'd taught Lelouch everything he knew about being a good agent.

“I half thought you'd be long gone by now, now that you're no longer a minor.” Mori said gruffly.

“You must still not have an accurate profile for me yet, Sir.” Normally he would have said something as galling as this with a smirk, but he couldn't afford such luxuries with Mori. He kept his expression blank as a slate.

It wasn't a joke or a useless jab. Mori really was investigating him and had been for years. He was always under surveillance from his commander. He'd seen the agents sent to tail him himself. Hell, he'd even spoken to one and had been able to tentatively convert her to his side. Whether Mori knew the truth of his heritage, that he was in actuality the former Eleventh Prince of Britannia, was anyone's guess, but it was for damned certain that Mori didn't trust him.

The man snorted in disdain before his eyes travelled to the monitor in front of him, to the frozen image of Clovis, Gottwald, Reimer, Platt and Ethan. His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“What are you working on?”

Lelouch frowned, pressing the power button on his monitor and sending the screen into blank, blackness. He wasn't required to report his methods or findings to anyone else. In fact, it was his prerogative to keep those kinds of things secret.

“An assignment I was given, Sir.” He answered.

“By who?” Mori asked darkly.

“The Prime Minister, Sir.”

His commanding officer pursed his lips, eyes narrowing dangerously. “I wasn't informed. What does the assignment entail?”

There was an easy way out of this. There was an easy way to gain points with Mori and avoid more suspicion. But his life had never been easy and protocol dictated that he didn't discuss his assignment with those not involved.

“I'm sorry, Sir. I'll have to refer you to the Prime Minister for the details.” He said stiffly.

Not that Mori had much of a chance to bring it up to Genbu. His commanding officer could probably count on one hand how many times he'd personally met the Prime Minister of Japan and the prospect of another audience cropping up just so he could snoop on Lelouch's dealings wasn't likely to happen any time soon.

Mori gave him a hard stare and Lelouch averted his gaze, bowing his head slightly to glance at the floor. It was a clear sign of submission. He wasn't deliberately trying to oppose the man, it was just that he was caught up in protocol and security, and with an operation as delicate as this he couldn't take any risks.

“Don't get in over your head.” Mori warned. “Whatever I suspect you of, the fact remains that the Prime Minister still considers you a son.”

“I will take the advice to heart, Sir.” He said, forcing himself to sound sincere. Until his birthday, he would have scoffed at such a sentiment. Now, he wasn't so sure. The weight of the pocket watch he'd been ordered to carry with him was never too far from his mind these days.

Mori pursed his lips again, still displeased, before turning back towards the door. “Carry on.” He ordered. Whatever mission he'd had in mind for Lelouch would have to be passed on to a different handler to deal with instead. He had his hands full with Gottwald.

 

***

 

Suzaku rolled over onto his back, staring at the beam of moonlight that fell across his bedroom ceiling as he let out a low sigh. The maid that was currently sharing his bed didn't shift from where she slumbered peacefully next to him, bare shoulder visible in the moonlight even if her face was hidden in the shadow of her hair.

He let her sleep. He'd kind of feel like an ass if he chased her out of his room as soon as he was done with her like Lelouch did. She'd wake up before she was supposed to begin work in the morning and leave quietly herself. Still, just because he wasn't going to kick her out didn't mean he wanted to cuddle.

He sat up slowly, careful not to jostle her as he got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He couldn't sleep well with someone else in his bed. Well, not unless that person was Lelouch. But he hadn't felt uncomfortable with having Lelouch out of sight since he was a kid. They'd gotten over that habit within the first year of Lelouch coming to stay with him, though it didn't change the fact that they had had bunk beds until they were fourteen.

He slipped quietly from the room, padding with bare feet across the floor before closing the door quietly behind him. No one would disturb Aiko from her slumber while he was away. If she was found there, she'd likely be fired on the spot, which wasn't something he wanted to happen to her because he had been the one who had seduced her in the first place and, well frankly, she was really good in bed.

He turned down the hall, thinking about the possibility of a late night jog around the perimeter, but paused at the sliver of light escaping from beneath Lelouch's door. It shouldn't surprise him. Knowing Lelouch, he was probably kicked out of his office by the night janitor at the base and had taken his work home with him. He was probably eyeball deep in surveillance footage and news clippings and whatever else Lelouch had been able to get his hands on.

Still, it was coming up on two in the morning and it was time for Lelouch to call it a night. He let himself into Lelouch's room without knocking, expecting to find him at his desk. He was surprised when he caught Lelouch unawares, sprawled on his back across his bed as he contemplatively examined the pocket watch he'd received for his birthday.

Lelouch startled at the intrusion, snapping the watch shut before it disappeared into a pocket and he was struggling to sit up. He paused halfway through the motion upon realizing who his late night visitor was and slumped back onto the bed.

“Suzaku.” Lelouch greeted tiredly.

He smiled softly, making his way to Lelouch's desk chair. “What were you thinking about?”

Lelouch was quiet for a long moment before he pulled out the watch again, letting it dangle from its chain as he held it above him at arm’s length. “Just contemplating all of the bizarre turns my life has taken.” He finally answered softly.

“Do you regret it?” He asked. Lelouch wouldn't lie to him if he asked a question directly, even if he didn't want to answer. He might try to evade it, but he'd never lie.

“Regret what?” Lelouch asked.

“Any of it?”

Lelouch was quiet again, this time for a longer and more damning period of time as he stared at the pocket watch dangling over head. It got to the point that he was sure that Lelouch wouldn't answer, when his brother sighed and let his arm drop back onto the bed beside him.

“Yeah.” Lelouch said quietly, staring up at the ceiling. “Just one thing.”

Suzaku waited in silence. If Lelouch wanted to elaborate, he would. But he knew his brother enough to know that Lelouch just shut down when he was pushed.

“If . . .” Lelouch began a minute later, voice uncertain and quiet. “If . . . _that day_ . . . if I hadn't gone with you . . . if I'd stayed with Nunnally instead, then maybe . . . Maybe I would have been able to get her out of there alive. But then again, maybe the both of us would have just died. Or maybe we'd have been recognized and taken back to Pendragon. I don't know. But I failed her so completely. I abandoned her, and she died alone. She must have been so scared . . .”

“It wasn't your fault, Lelouch.” He said softly.

“I know.” Lelouch said sharply, turning his head to glare at him. “I know exactly whose fault it is.”

“What about joining Japan?” He asked, moving the subject away from the volatile topic of Nunnally's death. He missed her too, but he didn't like to discuss it. Because in the end, he knew Lelouch would never get over it. And he knew Lelouch would always see it as him picking Suzaku over his vulnerable little sister Nunnally.

“You mean, do I regret becoming a traitor, betraying everything I ever knew and feeding the enemy information that allowed them to kill my own people in droves?” Lelouch asked seriously. “Never.”

Suzaku snorted at the cold-hearted dismissal. But that was how most of the world viewed Lelouch; cold-hearted. Lelouch was the cunning, ruthless bastard that turned battles into arithmetic and casualties into mere statistics. Either that, or he was the smarmy bastard that could talk a turtle out of its shell. But that was cold-hearted too, since more often than not, Lelouch then stabbed the vulnerable turtle.

Suzaku was the only one who ever got to see Lelouch when he wasn't ruthless, charming or overly submissive.

“Come for a late night jog with me.” He suggested, pushing himself up out of the chair.

“Now?” Lelouch asked incredulously.

“Yeah.”

“Tch.” Lelouch grumbled as he reluctantly stood up. “Which maid is in your bed tonight?”

“Aiko.” He sheepishly admit.

Lelouch rolled her eyes. “Of course. She does that thing -”

“Yeah.” Suzaku agreed, already knowing what Lelouch was thinking of. It was nowhere near the first time he'd been with her, and Lelouch was no stranger to her either.

“But she always wants to cuddle.” Lelouch grumbled, rooting around for a pair of running shoes.

“Exactly.” He agreed again, glad that they were on the same page as they headed for the door.

If he was lucky, by the time they got back, Aiko would have woken up and quietly excused herself from his room. If he wasn't, then by the time he was done with his late night work out, he would hopefully be tired enough to fall asleep regardless of the unwanted presence in his bed.

 

***

 

“I found this, Mistress.”

Kallen paused, glaring at the beautifully wrapped package she was being offered, before turning her glare on the woman who was bringing it to her. Her mother. Her real, biological mother. The woman she'd once loved and admired above all others – reduced to nothing but a slave to her step-mother.

Lady Stadtfeld liked having _Ms. Kouzuki_ around. She loved having the Japanese woman under her heel and nothing Kallen or Naoto said had been able to convince their mother to quit this pathetic job and try her luck elsewhere. Instead, she waited on Kallen like she was a stranger and broke her daughter's heart a bit more every day.

By now, she tried her best to avoid the woman as much as she could. She'd rather remember the mother she'd had before the war, however fuzzy and indistinct the memories were. Between her mother and her step-mother, just day to day life was turned into a perpetual game of hide and seek.

“Just get rid of it.” She said dismissively. She had no interest in seeing whatever trinket her brother's maid had picked out for her as a Christmas present. Naoto - oh pardon, 'Nathan' - was so busy with becoming the perfect Britannian scion that he couldn't even make the time to do his own shopping.

Not that she'd have accepted it even if he had been the one to pick it out. She didn't need anything from that bastard. She didn't even need to know him.

“Mistress, Lord Nathan chose this for you. It would be rude not to accept.” Her mother said quietly, disappointment evident though restrained. It wasn't her mother's place to reprimand her for her behaviour anymore. That duty fell to the lady of the house.

“I don't know a Lord Nathan.” She growled.

Her mother sighed. She was already pushing her luck and she knew it. If Lady Stadtfeld saw this, she'd be beaten again. And unlike with Kallen, Lady Stadtfeld wasn't nearly as careful with where her blows fell on the house help.

“I'll leave it here for you, Mistress.” Her mother said softly, setting the package down on the desk beside her before excusing herself.

Kallen glared at her mother's retreating back but quickly averted her gaze when the woman paused at the door.

“Your brother has also expressed an interest in spending New Year's Day with you.” Her mother informed her.

“I already have plans with Milly Ashford.” She answered coldly. It wasn't necessarily true, but it could be with very little persuasion on her part.

Her mother said nothing, head bowing slightly in acknowledgement of her refusal before leaving. It would probably be her mother that would have to pass along the message – that she still wanted nothing to do with Naoto, no matter how hard he tried to earn her forgiveness.

She fumed quietly to herself for a moment before levelling an even more venomous glare at the gift that had been left on her desk. It was a small box covered in icy blue wrapping paper and a white and silver bow. It was pretty.

She picked it up, feeling the weight of it. It was probably jewelry. It was always jewelry. A bracelet, or necklace, or earrings. Something that would glitter and no doubt match her hair or her eyes or something.

Like she could be bought with diamonds and gold.

She tossed it into her waste basket without even taking the time to open it.  


	7. Dark Memories

_Oh God, this couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening._

_Shattered glass crunched under his feet as he disbelievingly stepped into the grand hall. There were bullets embedded in the wall behind him and blood on the ground. Lady Marianne's blood and Princess Nunnally's . . ._

_This couldn't be happening. This couldn't! The Aeries Villa was supposed to be impenetrable. And Lady Marianne couldn't_ die _. That was impossible. She was too full of life and vigour for mere bullets to take her down._

_But his conviction didn't seem to matter much, because that was undoubtedly Marianne's body on the floor by the stairs. That was undoubtedly her blood oozing out of the gaping bullet wounds that had almost ripped her to shreds. That was undoubtedly her._

_One of his comrades shouldered past him, rushing toward the bodies on the floor, checking pulses. He was still in too much shock to move._

_“She's gone.” The man said quietly and the declaration reverberated in his brain until it became painful._

_She was gone. She was really gone. Lady Marianne. The woman who had recruited him. The only person he'd ever revealed his aspirations for the Rounds to. The woman who had smiled at him mischievously and promised to help him realize his dreams._

_Lady Marianne was gone._

_“The princess is still alive! But fading fast!” His comrade said in surprise. Another of his comrades was already calling for medical aid on the radio while yet another rushed forward to help stabilize the princess._

_He did nothing. He was frozen in place watching his world fall apart. Everything he'd worked so hard for . . . the woman he'd sworn to fight for and protect . . . his whole life was meaningless. He hadn't been able to prevent this. All of his oaths had been nothing but worthless words! Why hadn't he been able to stop this?!_

_“M-mother?” A broken, quiet voice said somewhere nearby, barely recognized or acknowledged._

_“MOTHER? NUNNALLY?!”_

_“Gottwald! Get the prince out of here! Now. Protect him with your life.” His team leader snapped to him,_

_It dragged him back to reality and his senses. He was a soldier. This was no time to be freezing up. He had a job to do. A duty. Lady Marianne had made him swear to protect her family. And so help him, he would._

_He rushed up the stairs to where the terrified young prince was supporting himself on the banister while staring down at the carnage below – a perfect vantage point to see the bodies laid out on the marble._

_“NUNNALLY!” The prince screamed again, eyes wide in shock, a visible tremble wracking his slight frame._

_The boy's scream was met and mimicked by another from the floor below._

_“LELOUCH!” The princess screamed, coming back to consciousness. It was the only recognizable word in the agonized shriek that left the girl's lips._

_He grabbed the boy, hauling the prince up into his arms to press the boy's face into his shoulder. The prince shouldn't have to see this. He shouldn't have to see his family struck down before his very eyes._

_The prince was still shaking, breathing in quick shallow breaths against his neck as he turned and began carrying him out of the house._

_“Shh. . . I'll protect you, your highness.” He soothed lowly._

_“M-mother is . . . and Nunnally . . .” The boy gasped as another shudder wracked his frame._

_The prince stilled after that and he glanced down to find that the boy had fainted in his arm. It was too much for anyone to bear, let alone a child. He cradled the prince's head against his chest as he slipped out of the house under the protection of some of his comrades and was escorted to a car waiting to take them to safety. The prince, and possibly the only survivor of the vi Britannia line, would be safe in his father's palace._

_He didn't let go of the boy until they were ushered into a private room in the Imperial Palace and a nursemaid finally urged him to put the prince to bed. He did so with reluctance, fearing assassins coming to finish off the last survivor of the vi Britannias, and quietly excused himself. He closed the door quietly behind him, then slid down the wall next to it as a shudder wracked his own frame._

_This couldn't be happening. None of this . . . All of this couldn't be happening. Lady Marianne was too strong . . . Princess Nunnally was too sweet . . . and Prince Lelouch was too bright for this to be happening._

_But it had happened._

_This was reality._

 

***

 

Jeremiah awoke with a start and a strangled cry on his lips. He was panting, bare chest rising and falling in rapid succession as a sheen of sweat made the sheets stick to him. He groaned, running a hand through his hair before collapsing back on the bed for a few minutes as he worked to steady his racing heart and surging adrenaline.

The nightmares always got worse when he knew that the anniversary of Lady Marianne's death was approaching. The date in question was still weeks away, but that didn't seem to stop his mind from agonizing over the 'what ifs'. What if he'd disobeyed the order to withdraw that Princess Cornelia had given? What if he'd been a little faster to respond to the sound of shots fired? What if he'd come too late and even the prince and princess had been slaughtered? Not that it had mattered much since a few months later the god damned Japanese had nicely finished the job that the terrorists at the Aeries Villa had begun.

The memory of that still brought bile to his throat.

He'd seen the video. He wasn't supposed to have seen it, but he had. He'd been going to meet with Princess Cornelia and had come across her, not in her office, but in a sitting room, watching the television in wide-eyed horror with tears streaming down her face. He'd never seen the princess so shaken, not even after Marianne's death.

A second later, he'd discovered why.

They'd been quick with Princess Nunnally. Maybe they'd been showing her mercy since she was already crippled and blinded from the assassination attempt at the Aeries Villa, but they'd finished her with a single shot execution style to the back of the head.

Prince Lelouch hadn't been so lucky. Barely ten years old, but the Japanese had still taken out their anger on him. They'd tortured the boy to death. On video. Before sending it to the children's father as revenge for the onset of the invasion.

If they'd hoped it would scare the Britannians off, they'd greatly misjudged the Empire's own willingness to take revenge. The Emperor had mourned the loss of his children for only a day before declaring Empire-wide that they wouldn't stop until the prince and princess' murderers were all dead and the warring country of Japan was crushed firmly underfoot. It was a sentiment he shared. He wouldn't be done with this damned country until it was well and thoroughly suppressed.

He let out a shaky breath and rolled out of bed. His thundering heart rate had lessened to an acceptable level now, but more importantly was the fact that he could hear servants hesitating outside the door to his bedroom and he would be damned if he lost face in front of anyone else, whether they were useless servants or nobility.

He schooled his face into a cold, expressionless mask. “Enter.” He ordered as he passed by the door.

The servants tittering outside the door did as they were bade, bringing coffee, breakfast, the newspaper, and the mail with them. He rarely took the time to sit down to eat in the mornings so his servants had come to this solution.

He grabbed the coffee, downing half of the scalding liquid in one gulp before turning away into his bathroom to the shower that was already running, waiting for him.

“Good morning, Master.” The man tasked with getting the bathroom ready for him said quietly, laying out a fresh towel.

He was the new hire his butler had brought on after one of his maids had suddenly run off with her new lover. He'd been told that the man had previously been employed by the ever prominent Stadtfelds, but that the vacation villa he'd been working at had been sold by the family and he'd been out of a job. His name was Dirk something and in the week and a half since he'd begun working here, Jeremiah had never had a cause for complaint.

But what had he expected from a former servant of the Stadtfelds?

“Thank you.” He said, before shooing the man out and closing the door behind him.

By the time he was done with his shower, he knew his linens would have been changed, the curtains drawn back and the windows opened to let the room air out a bit. He also knew that his uniform would be waiting for him to change into, freshly pressed.

It was a good system he had going.

When he emerged from the shower with the towel wrapped around his waist, he wasn't surprised to find that the maids were gone. They were always careful to be out of the room by the time he needed to dress. He was, however, surprised to find the newcomer still in attendance.

He quirked an eyebrow questioningly at the man, earning a bow in response. “This just came for you, Master. It's from the Viceroy.” Dirk said, holding out an envelope.

Unlikely. Clovis wouldn't call for him. The more likely scenario was that it was from Clovis' secretary, who just so happened to answer to him. He hoped the prince wasn't putting one of his more ridiculous schemes into action. This war would be over a lot more quickly if Prince Clovis could restrain his whimsy to his paintings and social gatherings, rather than to tactics and harebrained schemes.

“That will be all.” He said, plucking the envelope out of the servant's hands before turning his back on the man.

There was a moment, just a heartbeat's worth, of hesitation before the man responded. “Of course, Master.”

Dirk left and the door closed behind him. Jeremiah let out a sigh, taking a bite out of one of the croissant that had been left for him as he opened the missive he'd just received.

To his surprise, it was, in fact, from Clovis and not the secretary. Well, he was sure it had come from the secretary, but under Clovis' orders. _Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald_ -and he took careful note of the way in which he was addressed-was invited to a spectacular ball being hosted at the Viceroy's Palace in celebration of the New Year.

Clovis was getting smarter.

He couldn't do whatever he wanted with Jeremiah always hovering over his shoulder. But plainly not inviting him to this event would only have meant that he'd have arrived in his capacity as a Royal Guard and spent the evening in the Viceroy's shadow. No, by inviting him as a peer, he not only made sure that Jeremiah wasn't on duty that night, but it also gave him free rein to avoid him. After all, no single noble should be able to monopolize the time of royalty. He would be expected to make his greeting, maybe speak with the Viceroy for a half an hour, at most, before moving on to let the prince repeat the process with his other guests.

He briefly considered denying the invitation and arriving as a member of the Royal Guard anyway. But Clovis wasn't the only one who needed to network, and he couldn't always do it from within the prince's shadow.

It was high time that Margrave Gottwald returned to the social scene. If only for a night.

 

***

 

Lelouch smirked, thoroughly amused. As ever, Amos' reports were accurate and thorough to the point that they were downright painful to read. It listed every tiny detail, right down to Gottwald's preferred breakfast fare and what he took in his coffee.

He'd been suitably impressed by how quickly Naoto had been able to train him. Well, he shouldn't have been surprised. Naoto was one of his most reliable agents for a reason, and Amos always devoted himself a hundred percent to his given role.

If the reports remained this thorough, he'd be ready to move in no time - which seemed to be what the Prime Minister was hoping for. He'd been in a meeting with his adopted father earlier, reporting his progress. The fact that he'd managed to get a plant into Gottwald's home had earned him praise. With Amos inside the house, and Naoto honing in on Gottwald from outside of it, very soon he'd have enough data to move.

He'd already gone through every second of video footage he could find of Gottwald and dug up every scrap of information he could find on the man, from his childhood right through to the present day. Reading about Gottwald's stint as a member of his mother's Royal Guard had been . . . tough.

Apparently, the man had been the one who had removed him from the scene the night of the assassination. He didn't remember it. He didn't remember much from that night except looking down at his mother and sister from the top of the stairs; his mother's blank, dead eyes, and Nunnally's shrieks of fear and agony. He'd been blind to everything else.

The rest was pretty fuzzy. He'd known the Royal Guard had been there; known that one of them had taken him to the Imperial Palace, but that man had remained faceless and nameless for the last eight years.

“ _I'll protect you, your highness.”_

He vaguely remembered that too. The Royal Guard trying to comfort him. It was strange to think that he was repaying the kindness with his current ploy. Strange to think that a man that had once protected him was now his target. Strange to think that he'd use the man to serve the Japanese and that he wouldn't give a damn about the consequences Gottwald might face for the actions he would make the man take.

“Working hard. As always.”

He jumped at the intrusion, then chastised himself. He should have been more aware of his surroundings. He couldn't afford to space out like this, even if he was in his own room at home. Mori's watchdogs often watched him even here and it would be only too easy for them to get rid of him in a moment of carelessness. Sleeping was one of the most terrifying parts of his day, and not only because of the nightmares.

“Dad.” He said in greeting, surreptitiously glancing at the clock. It was only ten thirty. It wasn't late enough that the man would order him to stop working and rest. He pasted on a cautious smile, wondering what Genbu could possibly want to say to him that he hadn't in their meeting earlier that day.

Genbu didn't say anything as he ran his gaze over the room, over the barren walls and immaculate shelves. Nothing was out of place and nothing gave any kind of hint to the kind of person who lived in this room. He liked it that way. It saved him from worrying about what his enemies were inferring about him from examining his material possessions.

Then Genbu's gaze fell on the pocket watch that was sitting on the desk beside him – the only thing out of place. His insides cringed, and he fought back the instinct to hide it like it was something shameful. Genbu was the one that had given it to him and if the man wanted to look at it he would let him. But that didn't mean he'd be out showing it off to anyone and everyone, even if he had been ordered to wear it.

But Genbu didn't ask to see it to examine the care with which he'd been keeping the watch. Genbu just smiled fondly at the damnable little device before ruffling his hair like he was still a kid. “Don't work yourself too hard, Lelouch. Live a little too.”

“That's a direct contradiction of the orders you gave me earlier.” He pointed out. In their meeting earlier, his adopted father had stressed the importance of haste.

“That was the Prime Minister talking to an agent.” Genbu chuckled. “This is me as a father talking to my son.”

Lelouch huffed. “You're the most aggravatingly contradictory person I think I've ever met.”

“And you're the most aggravatingly distant son any father has ever had.” Genbu countered with a warm smile.

He pursed his lips and glanced away, hating the man's new found interest in stressing the point of their familiarity. “There's only one of me. I can't very well fulfil contradicting orders, can I?”

“Oh? Then which are you?” The older man asked.

Lelouch hesitated only for a moment before turning his gaze back to his adopted father. “I'm an agent in the service of Japan, Mr. Prime Minister.” He said firmly.

Genbu let out a disappointed snort before smiling sadly. “Then, Mr. Agent, I look forward to seeing your results. But don't wear yourself out.”

“I won't.” He promised. He'd never yet worked himself to exhaustion, though he had come close a couple times.

“Good night, Lelouch.”

He watched Genbu go before scrubbing his hands over his face in frustration. It wasn't like he hated the man. In reality, he was very grateful to Genbu for taking him in. But that didn't mean he fully trusted him, or that he didn't think Genbu wouldn’t sell him out and abandon him just as easily as his biological father had if it were convenient.

He let out a sigh before turning back to Amos' report. He didn't have the time or the luxury to worry about it at the moment. Right now, he needed to focus on getting a leash around Gottwald before the proposed registration laws were made a reality.

 

***

 

Suzaku laughed openly, pushing his Knightmare to its limit. “Faster, Mura-san! You've got to keep up with me.” He called through his headset to where his subordinate was giving chase only meters behind him.

Tohdoh had been right about him. Mura was an excellent Knightmare pilot. The best he'd seen aside from himself, and this run only proved it. He felt elation at finally finding someone capable of matching him. Mura would do well in the Eighth.

He raced forward, sinking his slash harkens into a nearby office building before using the taut wire to swing himself around a tight corner. He heard Mura curse under his breath at the sudden change in direction, and watched via his factspheres as the other man's Knightmare missed the turn and corrected the error by launching his Knightmare onto the roof of the convenience store on the corner, coming over the collapsing roof and landing on Suzaku's left.

“Nicely done.” He praised, even if the convenience store was now a wreck.

“Thank you, Suzaku-sama.” Mura said with a breathless chuckle as they continued their race through the city around them. Somewhere within this virtual landscape, he knew there were ten enemy Knightmares waiting for them. But he wasn't nearly as concerned about them as he was with putting Mura through his paces.

He wanted to know that he would always have someone at his back on the field. He was pretty sure that Mura knew how to handle himself in a fight – you didn't get into the Japanese Knightmare Division unless you knew how to fight damned well in their limited number Knightmare frames. Only the best got in.

No, what he was more concerned with was speed and reflexes, and how synchronized with his machine he was. And so far, the results were good.

He laughed again as his sensors began chiming in warning; they were picking up enemy units. He slowed his Knightmare to a stop in an intersection where they'd have a little space to move, taking up a defensive posture with Mura at his side as he allowed the enemy Knightmares to rush their position. It wasn't exactly strategically sound, but there was nothing better than a full on brawl, especially against these computer-controlled drones.

The enemy Knightmares rushed into the intersection, all new Britannian Sutherland models, and fanned out around the two Burais. Suzaku flexed his fingers, getting ready to charge at the nearest enemy. But before he could put his machine into action, the screens went blank and he heard the distinct sound of the simulator powering down.

He groaned, leaning back in his seat for a moment. He hated when they did that. Just when his adrenaline had started pumping too. And now he was left with this disconcerting plunge back to reality where there wasn't danger and his body didn't need to panic.

He let out another slow breath before disengaging the cockpit and stepping out onto the platform in front of the simulator, doing his best to stifle the glare he wanted to unleash on the man next to the power button. Matsuki Harou was his father's secretary, in his mid-thirties, and always presented a degree of professionalism that was almost scary.

“Suzaku-sama,” The older man said with a neutral smile. “You were expected in the Prime Minister's office half an hour ago.”

“Oh, shit.” He said under his breath, running a hand through his hair. Had he really spent two hours in the simulators already? “Gotta go, Mura-san. Next time.” He said before jumping down the scaffolding to the main floor where the shower room was.

He was going to be very late and his father was definitely going to drag him over the coals for it, but he wasn't about to show up to an afternoon of stuffy meetings in a closed office smelling like sweat and Knightmares. He'd done that once before and, after an afternoon of knowing that not only he but everyone else in the room as well could smell him, he'd sworn never to do it again.

“Give me ten minutes, Matsuki-san.” He called over his shoulder.

He emerged, freshly showered and dressed, in slightly less than seven before sending Mura another wave and not so subtly herding Matsuki towards the door. While it probably wouldn't help any, and his father was going to ream him out no matter how late he was, he still nursed the naive hope that it might not be as bad if he hurried.

With luck, this time it would be true.

 

***

 

Naoto smiled widely at the pretty young noble woman that was doing a terrible job of convincing him that a marriage between their families would be a beneficial union. Charming as she was, it didn't change the fact that her family was nearly bankrupt thanks to her father's gambling habits. Not that that was common knowledge, but it was always good to have an eye on the people that moved in the same circles as he did.

And since that was basically his job, he took quite a bit of pride in knowing that he was good at it.

He'd seen Gottwald arrive some time ago, talking with the prince almost as soon as he'd come through the door. Naoto figured he was probably lucky that the man wasn't attending as a Royal Guard. If he'd been hovering in Prince Clovis' shadow all evening, it would have been practically impossible to actually approach the man and he'd have been forced to resort to mere observation.

Still, even with that in his favour, it wasn't like he could just walk up to Gottwald and strike up a conversation with him. They'd been introduced to each other in the past, but they'd never really shown an interest in each other. Making direct contact would give off the wrong vibe, like he was after something. Which was most emphatically not the vibe he wanted to give off.

So he watched from the corner of his eye as he entertained Miss Completely-Broke-and-Desperate, waiting for a chance to get Lord Gottwald to talk to him. That was the trick. Getting his targets to initiate the conversation was an acquired social skill that took patience and finesse. When he finally figured he'd gotten the man's pattern down, he excused himself from his lady friend's company and struck up a conversation with the man he figured would likely be next on Gottwald's list.

Lord Crowly was a very wealthy man in his late sixties. He made the Stadtfelds look like paupers by comparison. However, despite having so much money (the result of a massive inheritance, shrewd and ruthless business planning, and the high demand for his construction companies to repair and rebuild infrastructure damaged by the war), Crowly hardly paid attention to politics, let alone dabbled in them. He was a powerhouse with an insane amount of influence that was rarely exerted. If the man ever felt strongly enough about something to exert pressure on any one issue, Naoto was reasonably certain that even Prince Clovis wouldn't be able to oppose him without risking severe financial repercussions. He was _that_ influential.

He was also relatively good friends with Naoto.

“Ah, young Nathan!” Crowly said with a warm smile as he approached, offering a hand to shake.

“Jim.” He greeted just as warmly, shaking the man's hand.

“Look at you, coming over to see an old man when you had such a pretty little thing on your arm.” Crowly said jovially. “Your future bride?”

“She'd like to be.” He answered with a shrug. “But probably not.”

“Ah, that's too bad. She looked good with you.” The old man prodded.

He smiled politely. “But that's about all she has going for her.” He revealed quietly with the subtle undertone to drop the subject. Thankfully, Jim picked up on it and glanced out across the room instead of pursuing the topic of his unmarried status. For now, at least. It seemed to be a favourite subject for the man.

“Quite the turnout, eh, Nathan?” Crowly said, gesturing to the other party-goers. It was a bit of an understatement. The party's patrons consisted of all the most influential people in Area Eleven, from nobility, to business men, to the police commissioner, to military officials. If you couldn't make something happen, you weren't invited.

“What else would we expect from one of the Viceroy's parties?” He asked rhetorically. Prince Clovis' love of grand social events was well known. Even now he could see the prince animatedly discussing something with a group of sycophants on the other side of the room. In order to maintain his relative anonymity and safety, he only ever offered the prince a customary greeting and handful of minutes of conversation before allowing the Viceroy to entertain himself with others.

“Ah, Lord Crowly.” A voice interrupted beside them, and he had to fight to keep the smirk off of his face. “And Lord Stadtfeld. Good evening.”

“Lord Gottwald.” He said in mock surprise and offered a hand to shake. “You're looking well.”

“And you, Lord Nathan. I had heard that you were ill.” Gottwald said.

Naoto was none too impressed with the revelation that the man was keeping an eye on him, but he shrugged it aside. In this kind of company, everyone had their eye on everyone else. “Just a cold.” He said with a shrug. “It is that time of year. But I'm completely recovered now.”

“You need to take better care of yourself, Nathan.” Crowly chided. “And you too, Jeremiah. You young folk always have the bad habit of pushing yourselves too far these days.”

Naoto shared a tolerant smile with his target. “I'm sure you didn't create your empire in your younger years by slacking off. Even if I push myself too hard, how can I slack off when I have your towering success to measure myself against? The Crowly Corporation routinely gains more gross profit per quarter than Stadtfeld Industries, no matter what I seem to do.”

“You'll have plenty of time to build your empire. For now you need to worry about more important things. Like finding a wife. Both of you are neglecting your duty to your families by not getting married.” Crowly chided.

Gottwald chuckled. “That's what my sister's for. I'll leave the perpetuation of the Gottwald line to her. I'm too busy with my duties to the Viceroy to even consider tying the knot.”

Naoto considered voicing the same sentiment for all of half a second before nixing the idea. If it ever got back to Kallen that he said something like that, he wouldn't even be given the chance to explain himself before she murdered him. Treating his sister like some kind of glorified breeding cow was a good way to ensure that she would always hate him.

He still nursed some hope of reconciliation between them. Call him stupidly optimistic, but it was still there. She was his baby sister and he wasn't about to give up on her, even if she'd like him to.

“I'm sure even Prince Clovis would understand if you -”

“Come now, Jim, we'll get married when we're good and ready.” Naoto chided, coming to Gottwald's defence. “There's no need to harp at us. Let us enjoy our good looks and charm while we have them. When we're down to just our charm, then we can think about getting married.”

Gottwald chuckled. “I'm afraid I have to agree with Lord Nathan.”

Point.

“Of course you do.” Lord Crowly said, goodnaturedly rolling his eyes. “As I said, you young'uns are all the same these days.”

“We just don't hold the same reverence for your old fashioned values.” Gottwald said with a teasing smirk.

With any other lord, this banter would have been inappropriate. But Jim Crowly was one of those down to earth types and hated getting formal and serious, especially at these stuffy social events. He was like the elderly uncle that every kid wished would stop bugging them about getting a girlfriend already, but were helpless against to stop the teasing.

That Gottwald knew that much about Crowly meant that he was in the market for currying the man's favour. He couldn't see why else Gottwald would put up with this kind of invasive questioning. There were few who put up with Crowly's antics willingly.

“Old fashioned?” Crowly asked in mock outrage. “There's no such thing as old fashioned. Why, in my day – Oh, damn. That's my wife over there. She's not supposed to drink with the new medication she's on, but she does ever love her wines. Afraid I've got to go. A wonderful New Years to you, my lords.”

Naoto let out a chuckle as he watched the elderly man go. “When I'm his age, I'll hope to be half as carefree.”

“Indeed.” Gottwald agreed. “A goal most men must aspire to - to reach a point where they don't need to worry about anything. Complete contentment with life.”

“Too true. I heard Lord Crowly was quite formidable when he was younger. I'm somewhat glad that he's mellowed over the years, or I might not have had Stadtfeld Industries still under my control.” He said, only half teasing. The stories he'd heard about the days of Crowly's prime, most of which he'd heard from Crowly himself, were pretty awe inspiring in terms of ruthless business sense and hostile takeovers.

“I think he likes you though, so he might have spared you.” Gottwald replied.

“Nah, he would have taken us over and made me work for him.” He chuckled.

Gottwald was quiet for a moment and Naoto prepared for the man's departure. After all, there was no point in him sticking around since his quarry had escaped.

“A moment ago you said that you were in control of Stadtfeld Industries.” Gottwald said cautiously. “I wasn't aware of that.”

Oh? Well then, it appeared that he'd miscalculated. Crowly must not have been the only target on Gottwald's list. If the man was looking to establish relations with him as well, so much the better. He could definitely use this to his advantage.

For a split second, Naoto's gaze cut across the room to where his father was busily engaged in conversation with a couple of his peers. Then it snapped back to center and he watched the Margrave beside him out of the corner of his eye. It gave him a sufficiently suspicious and nervous demeanour before he looked straight at Gottwald and smiled tentatively.

“My father is the president of the company, but he's primarily concerned with the Sakuradite refineries we manage back in the homeland. Everything we control in Area Eleven is my responsibility.” He answered cautiously.

He actually didn't give a damn about Stadtfeld Industries, and felt very little remorse over letting something like this slip. If word got out that he was actually the one in charge of the company in Area Eleven, it was very likely that those seeking favours and alliances with Stadtfeld Industries would bypass his father altogether, a move that could potentially fracture the company.

But in this scenario, if that were to happen, Naoto wouldn't mind in the slightest. Because the man he was revealing this secret to was his target. He didn't care what the consequence of such actions might be so long as he was able to get close to Gottwald.

He could tell by the way the Margrave's eyebrow arched that the information intrigued him. Another point in his favour. Now he just had to keep himself interesting.

“That's quite the achievement, considering your age.” Gottwald said.

He laughed derisively. “Not at all. Compared to what you do, to having a member of the royal family's safety as your responsibility, it's actually pretty . . . uninspiring.”

Flattery always helped.

“I suppose.” Gottwald conceded before segueing onto another topic. Naoto smothered his grin and paid close attention to everything he could glean from the man. This was the reason why Lelouch had chosen him for this assignment. Because he was the only one that could get this close to Gottwald without raising suspicion.

 

***

 

Amos shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the tray on his arm. Normally, he wouldn't have a problem with this, but he'd been standing out here for almost half an hour now and the coffee was probably going to be cold by the time he actually got to serve it to Gottwald.

Lizette, the maid next to him, sent him a sympathetic smile, urging him to be patient as another muffled shout came through the closed door in front of them. It had been like this since he got here. There seemed to be a fifty-fifty chance as to whether the lord of the house would sleep without nightmares.

“What is it that keeps the Master from sleeping soundly?” He finally asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Lizette was a horrendous gossip and nosey to the point of being obnoxious, but she was also his greatest source of information. If there weren't people like her around, his job would have been so much harder.

She sent a sad glance towards the door. “Master used to protect an Empress, but she was assassinated. The little prince and princess died within the same year too. He's never forgotten about it. Believe me, the nightmares will get worse as we get closer to the twenty-third.”

“What's on the twenty-third?” He asked. Though it was easy enough to guess, he needed confirmation in order to pass the information along to Lelouch.

“That's the day Empress Marianne was killed. Though, he probably won't sleep at all that night, if the last four years have been any indication. He'll come back the morning after, piss drunk.” Lizette said with disdain.

Amos blinked in surprise. “Where can a man of Master's social standing go drinking all night without it becoming common knowledge by the next day?”

If this had been happening for a couple years now, and if rumours of Gottwald's drinking problem hadn't become widespread already, it meant there was a place that would shelter a noble's right to drink himself into a stupor without the rest of the world finding out. Some men might not care about the attention such an act would receive, but if he'd learned anything over the last two weeks, it was that Gottwald paid close attention to appearances.

“There's a pub . . . well, I probably wouldn't call it a pub. It’s more like a drinking lounge for the ridiculously wealthy. It's called the Fox Hunt.” Lizette revealed. “I had to go pick him up from there with the driver two years ago. The poor man was so drunk that he couldn't even stand.”

Bingo.

A place where Gottwald would be alone and inebriated. He doubted there would be a better opening than this for Lelouch to take advantage of.

“Enter.” A sharp voice said on the other side of the door. Gottwald was finally awake.

Amos shifted the tray again and touched a finger to the coffee carafe to ensure that it was still hot enough that Gottwald would be able to drink it without complaint. It was, so he nodded to Lizette, who opened the door for him and began the house's morning ritual of seeing that their Master was fed, dressed and informed of anything that needed his attention.

Just another normal day at the Gottwald estate.  


	8. Full of Wiles, Full of Guile

_“Lelouch?” Suzaku breathed in relief as he made his way into the clearing that housed Nunnally's memorial. He'd been looking all over for his brother, dreading coming upon another horrific scene like he had on Nunnally's birthday only months ago – of Lelouch limp and lifeless in a tub full of bloody water. Thankfully, that wasn't the case today._

_In hindsight, he should have checked here earlier. But no one had seen him leave the estate (which meant that either someone had lied to him or Lelouch had found a secret way to get out without being noticed). And it was also going on midnight and cold outside. He'd have figured that Lelouch would have been curled up somewhere warm, not sprawled across the frosty grass in front of Nunnally's statue._

_An orange glow illuminated Lelouch's face for a moment and he let out an aggravated sigh. “You're smoking now?” He asked, making his way closer. The moonlight was bright enough to illuminate the assortment of cans and bottles scattered around his brother's prone form. “And drinking?”_

_Well, to be entirely honest, the drinking was nothing new. Plenty of Lelouch's anniversaries of misfortune had been spent in a drunken haze. But that usually took place in Lelouch's closet, or in the little used library, not at Nunnally's memorial in the middle of the night._

_“Don't patronize me.” Lelouch snapped, bringing the cigarette to his lips again._

_“I didn't. I didn't say anything.” He protested, settling down on the grass next to Lelouch._

_“It was in your tone.” Lelouch grumbled, exhaling a puff of smoke right at him. He waved it away without comment, unwilling to get drawn into a fight this late, even if Lelouch was spoiling for one._

_“So why cigarettes?” He asked._

_“Why not?” Lelouch shrugged, staring up and the night sky above._

_Suzaku let the matter rest. There would be a reason for it. There was always a reason for the things Lelouch did. But it he didn't want to share it that was okay too. Suzaku knew well enough that the anniversary of Lelouch's mother's death was practically sacrosanct. If Lelouch felt like he was intruding on it, he knew he'd be told to leave. That hadn't happened yet, and he hoped that it wouldn't this year either._

_So he waited in silence, admiring the glow of the moon on the white marble statue of Nunnally. This little grove seemed almost surreal by moonlight. He wondered why he hadn't noticed it before. In summer, when all of the trees were in bloom it looked like it belonged in a fairy tale, but by moonlight in winter it looked almost hauntingly beautiful._

_“I saw my mother smoking once.” Lelouch said quietly, groping for one of the bottles spread across the grass that still had some liquor in it._

_“Oh?” It wasn't so much a question as it was an acknowledgement that Lelouch had spoken._

_“Mother was always mindful of how she behaved. Since she was a commoner by birth, everything she did came under the scrutiny of the people at court. Like, if she didn't go to greet such and such a noble at a party, rumours would crop up that she resented them for their wealth or their title, even if there were hundreds of people attending the party. So she never smoked or did anything the nobility would see as boorish and unladylike at court._

_“But Mother was also a Knight of the Round. Of course, after I was born she didn't really go out and do any of the more dangerous missions anymore. She had children to take care of, so the Emperor let her off the hook. But she refused to resign from her post since it was the only thing giving her a noble title. You know that Knights are only non-hereditary titles, right?”_

_“Yeah.” He answered quietly. He knew a lot about Britannia's social structure thanks to his lessons, and thanks to Lelouch. But his brother was likely too drunk at the moment to remember explaining this to him before._

_“When I was seven or maybe eight, Mother was called into active duty. There was an uprising in Area Eight, so they sent her with the Ganymede to make an impression. It was before Knightmares were put into mass production. At the time, the Ganymede might have been the only Knightmare in the world. I don't know._

_“I coerced one of the guards into taking me to the base to welcome her back. And there she was,” Lelouch said, waving a hand vaguely in front of him, as if he could still see her. “wreathed in a halo of smoke as she sat at the foot of her Knightmare, cigarette at her lips. She looked like she belonged in a movie.”_

_Lelouch chuckled quietly, bringing the cigarette to his lips again._

_“Then she caught sight of me, snuffed it out and scolded me for the rest of the day for coming to the base.”_

_Suzaku laughed at the image it provoked. Of course he'd have been scolded. Marianne probably hadn't wanted her children to see that side of her. As a soldier and a Knightmare pilot himself, he knew that there were parts of him that he would also have tried to shield from children._

_Lelouch snuffed out the cigarette on the ground in front of him and let out a sigh. “Rest in peace, Mother.”_

 

***

 

Naoto wasn't entirely sure what the dictionary definition of 'carousing' was, but he was sure that this was pretty damn close. He had a beer in one hand and one of his buddies was completely sloshed on the other side of him, talking loudly about what a bastard the secretary his father had chosen for him was. He and the rest of his drinking partners could do nothing but loudly agree.

He'd been to the Fox Hunt before. It was an exclusive, members only establishment that catered only to the nobility. If your family didn't have a title, you didn't get in. It was as simple as that. It didn't matter how much money you had. So it was also the perfect location to ply his fellow noblemen with liquor and get them to reveal all of their secrets. The most foolish ones let their guard down when out of the company of petty commoners. They seemed to think that there was some kind of unspoken code between members of the nobility not to exploit this situation.

Who knows? Maybe there was. But Naoto wasn't a proponent of it if it did exist. He used the Fox Hunt regularly to serve his own interests. Even when he wasn't on assignment for Lelouch, he spent his days keeping an eye on the other influential people of Area Eleven. This was one of his regular hunting grounds.

He lifted his beer to his lips, holding it there longer than necessary for the amount of liquid he actually consumed. He'd been doing this all night and it, in conjunction with switching out nearly empty drinks with the guys on either side of him when they weren't looking meant that while everyone at the table thought he was matching them drink for drink, in reality he'd had less than one beer all night.

The rest of his performance was left up to nothing but his acting skills.

“And then the son of a bitch says that if I'd just done as he'd told me to that we wouldn't have been in the red last quarter. Like what the fuck? Does he think he's the boss or something? It's his job to follow my orders, not make suggestions. I don't know why my father hired him. I hate scumbag commoners like him who think that just because they're a little smart that it puts them on even footing with the nobility.”

“Well maybe that's why your father hired him. Maybe he thinks you need some guidance, Liam.” Naoto said, smirking into his pint. He didn't have much of an objective this evening outside of making the biggest scene possible. Trying to be sneaky would only make him look suspicious. It was better to be seen out in the open.

Gottwald had already entered the Fox Hunt and been escorted to a private room. It was one of the services the Fox Hunt offered for its distinguished clientele. For an exorbitant sum, you could have a room out of sight from the rest of the patrons and a private bartender wait on you all night. Usually it was for small groups, but Gottwald had gone in alone. From his vantage point at the table he was seated at, he could see straight down the hallway housing the private rooms.

He'd know the exact moment that Gottwald chose to leave. From there, all he had to do was call Lelouch on the number he'd been provided. Compared to some of his other assignments, this was easy. So he'd taken the liberty of bringing along some friends to help pass the time and to establish a good cover.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? You think that's what it is? You're crazy, Nathan. I'm my father's pride and joy. No way he'd saddle me with someone so annoying on purpose. He hates commoners too.” Liam protested.

“Well if he's such a pain to you, you should fire him.” He suggested. “Then maybe I'll hire him myself.”

Knowing his friend, it wouldn't be a bad investment. Liam was a typical nobleman - so sure of his importance and superiority to the point that it defied common sense. Naoto would like to say he hated that type, but it wouldn't be true. Compared to the competent members of the nobility like Gottwald and Crowly, he'd take idiots like Liam every time. They were easy to manipulate and use.

“You're a masochist!” Liam crowed, earning boisterous laughs from the rest of the table's patrons.

“There's nothing wrong with a little pain.” He said slyly, earning even more laughter and variety of off-colour comments.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced away while reaching into his pocket, setting off the ringer on his cellphone before pulling it out and glancing at the screen. “Ah, I've got to take this, guys. Be right back.”

 

***

 

The whiskey burned down Lelouch's throat as he leaned against the cold brick wall behind him in an alley near the Fox Hunt. It was keeping him warm at least. He hoped Gottwald didn't stay in there until closing time. He'd already been out here longer than he'd liked and consumed more of the liquor than he'd intended. Not that it was too much, but he'd originally intended to drink just enough for it to be on his breath and bring a flush to his cheeks.

“Lelouch, don't do this.” Suzaku pleaded urgently next to him.

“Quiet, Suzaku. The operation is already underway.” He grumbled.

“This is the anniversary of your mother's death!” Suzaku protested. “Don't use it as a stepping stone for one of your assignments.”

“I'm well aware of the day.” He snapped waspishly.

“Every other year, you've been a wreck on this day.”

“Then shouldn't you be happy that I'm finally moving on?” He asked archly.

“You'll regret this, Lelouch.” Suzaku said firmly.

He didn't reply. In all likelihood, Suzaku was correct and he would regret using the excuse of his mother's death as a means to weaken his target, but he couldn't back out now. He wouldn't. Because no matter how much the idea made him uncomfortable, he was still pragmatic enough to see that this was a golden opportunity to get close to Gottwald.

No, more like this was the only opportunity to get close to Gottwald. According to the intelligence he'd been getting from Amos and Naoto, every other day was spent almost exclusively in Clovis' shadow. It was unlikely he'd be given another chance like this, especially not while the registration laws were still only in a proposal phase, when it was still possible to stall or stop them.

“That doesn't matter.” He said quietly.

Suzaku frowned, staring at him intently as he stared at the wall on the other side of the alley. Thankfully, his phone began ringing before the argument could continue.

“Don't answer.” Suzaku said, his tone telling him quite clearly that this was an order.

Lelouch stared at Suzaku for a second out of the corner of his eye before reaching into his pocket for the phone. Whether or not he answered, it wouldn't change the fact that he already had an agent inside with the target. He refused to waste Naoto's time by not going through with this.

“Hello?” He answered.

“Babe! What up?” Naoto's voice came through the receiver, loud over the already noisy background. “ . . . . No, I told you I'd be coming over later. . . No, I'm busy right now. . .Don't worry about it. I'll come in through the back door. I'll see you later. Night.”

He chuckled. As usual, Naoto was long winded while maintaining his cover. The only relevant piece of information in the entire message was confined to only two words. Gottwald would be coming out the back door of the Fox Hunt.

Right then, it was time to move.

He took one more sip from the bottle of whiskey before ruffling his hair out of place and turning to Suzaku. “How drunk do I look?” He asked, affecting a slight slur.

Suzaku huffed and turned away without giving a response, getting out of sight. Lelouch chuckled before peeking out of the alley in time to see Gottwald emerge from the Fox Hunt, staggering slightly before stuffing his hands into his pockets and turning down the street towards him, head down and unaware of his surroundings.

Ah, Gottwald was making this too easy.

 

***

 

Jeremiah sighed heavily. It was always like this. Every year. A drink in Empress Marianne's memory turned into a night of trying to drown the memories and the guilt with liquor. It never actually helped. He'd still be left feeling like the most worthless soldier in the Empire. Except tomorrow he'd have the added effect of being the Empire's most worthless soldier with a hangover.

He really was a pathetic creature of habit. Tomorrow when he woke up, he'd swear that it was the last time. And next year, he knew that he'd inevitably end up doing the same thing again. It had been like that every year since the assassination.

Well, at least he was actually able to make his way home on his own this year. He'd never make the mistake of consuming so much that he couldn't get home on his own again. That was probably the most mortifying moment of his existence; having his servants carry him home because he was too inebriated to do it himself.

He was disgusted with himself. But when hadn't he been? It seemed like he'd been carrying this guilt with him for his entire life rather than only the last eight years. Marianne had deserved a better guard than him. She'd deserved to live.

Someone bumped into him on the street and he instinctively shoved them away. “Watch where you're going.”

“Shit!” A voice hissed, accompanied by the smash of a bottle on the pavement and the overpowering smell of whiskey.

God damned drunkards. Though at the moment he was hardly in a position to voice his condemnation, given the state he was in. He ignored the person trying to collect what was left of what he'd dropped, stepping around him to continue on his way.

“Don't!” The drunk shouted, grabbing onto his ankle.

Jeremiah's frown dropped into a full on scowl. It was one thing to accidentally bump into him, but it was another to deliberately grab onto him. He wasn't about to let himself be manhandled by some worthless drunk. He was nobility.

He was about to teach the drunk a lesson when he saw what the man was getting so uptight about. He'd been mere inches away from stepping on a photograph. He let out an annoyed snort and took a step back, shaking his foot out of the other man's grasp before catching sight of the people in the photograph and freezing.

It was Lady Marianne. Not only that, it was Lady Marianne and her children posing in the garden of the Aeries Villa.

And he knew for a fact that that photo had never been publicly released. It had only been taken a few weeks before the assassination. So how did that photo get into the hands of a drunk in Area Eleven?

“Oi.” He grumbled, using his boot to nudge the man in front of him. The drunk ignored him, reverently picking up the photo and checking it for damage. “Oi.” He said again, more firmly.

“What?” The drunk snapped, glancing up at him for a second, long enough to glare at him, before returning to the photograph.

But he didn't really register the hostile expression, because he could swear that it had come for a pair of violet eyes. He was rooted to the spot.

No. He needed to calm down. It was dark and he'd had a lot to drink. And Prince Lelouch was dead. He'd seen the video himself. This man could be anyone. No, it was more like this man had to be someone else.

But he had the photograph. And that photo had to have come from the Aeries Villa. There was no other explanation for it.

He reached down, grabbing the other man by his shoulders before dragging him up to his feet and under the glow of the streetlight, eyes travelling over his face and trying to convince himself that this wasn't what he was seeing. But that was Marianne's nose and chin and her high cheekbones, paired with the Emperor's violet eyes. And the dark, silky hair that had always distinguished Lelouch vi Britannia from the rest of his fair-haired siblings.

But it was impossible. He'd seen the video himself.

“Hey!” The man protested, trying to shrug off his stronger grip.

“Your highness. . .” He breathed in disbelief.

The younger man's eyes widened in obvious fear before violently jerking out of his grasp. “You – you're crazy.” The boy said, stepping back a few feet and hiding the photograph in the pocket of his jacket before turning away and hurrying the opposite way down the street.

Maybe he was. Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe this was all just a deluded fantasy, but everything this person was doing just made him more certain that this was Prince Lelouch.

Why the fear? Anyone else mistaken for royalty would laugh it off. Why would he react with fear unless it was the truth? Unless he was trying to hide his identity and he'd hit too close to the mark? Was the prince really alive? Had Prince Lelouch really been alive all this time?

He had to make certain.

“Wait!” He called after the retreating man, hurrying to catch up. But Prince Lelouch, if it really was Prince Lelouch, didn't wait for him or slow his pace. In fact, he sped up.

Jeremiah jogged after him, thankful that even in his current state of inebriation that he could manage this much. Well, Prince Lelouch was fairly inebriated too, if the way he occasionally swayed was anything to go by.

“Wait.” He said again, close enough to grab the teen's arm. He needed confirmation. “It is you, right? You're . . . you're Prince Lelouch vi Britannia. You're Lady Marianne's son.”

The boy averted his gaze. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“What about Princess Nunnally?” He demanded, feeling the prince stiffen in his grasp at the mere mention of her name. But of course that would be natural. She'd been crippled and blinded after the assassination. It would only be natural for the prince to be protective of her.

“I said I don't know what you're talking about.” The teen snapped harshly at him.

“It is you.” He breathed in amazement, feeling years of grief turn into relief. It was like a weight had been lifted, or like he could finally take a deep breath after years of holding it in. He sank to his knee without thought, the movement so natural and _right_ that it seemed like second nature. “Your highness, I am Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald. I served on your mother's Royal Guard.”

“Are you fucking crazy?” The prince demanded angrily, glancing around the street fearfully. But there was no one else on the street this late. All the same, Prince Lelouch grabbed him roughly by the arm and dragged him into the nearest alley before turning on him with a murderous glare. “I don't know what kind of game you're playing here, but -”

“Please stop, your highness.” He pleaded. “I've been terribly inconsiderate and impertinent to you, but please stop denying your identity. I know who you are. Please believe me that I mean you no harm, your highness.”

“Then why are you following me like some kind of bloodhound?” The boy demanded.

“I had to confirm it - that you're really alive. This is unbelievable. I saw the video myself. Even His Majesty was fooled into thinking it was you.” He explained.

“Video?” The prince asked, stepping back in confusion.

“The Japanese sent a video of Princess Nunnally being executed and of you being tortured to death to the Emperor.” He explained cautiously.

“You're joking.” Prince Lelouch said in a deadpan.

“I'm afraid not. Everyone in the Empire believes you to be dead.” He said regretfully.

“You mean everyone in the Empire saw this video you're talking about?” The prince demanded.

“Of course not. As far as I'm aware only certain members of the royal family saw the video. I myself only saw it by mistake while visiting Princess Cornelia.”

“ . . . I see.” The prince said with a frown.

“His Majesty will be overjoyed to hear that you've survived.”

Maybe Clovis wouldn't be necessary after all. As the man who found his missing son, surely the Emperor would be willing to grant him any boon he wanted, even if what he wanted was a place on the Rounds.

The prince's eyes widened in fear, grabbing him by the arm in entreaty. “You can't! You can't tell anyone! Please! I'm begging you, don't tell anyone about me.”

“What?” He asked in surprise, caught off guard by the vehement reaction.

“First Mother, then Nunnally. If they find out I'm alive, I'll be next. I know it!” Prince Lelouch said, body visibly trembling as he snatched back his hand. “You can't tell anyone. I'll die. I'll really die.”

“Your highness. . . . then . . . then Princess Nunnally is?”

“A Britannian assassin came after us right before the invasion began. I couldn't get to her in time. She was right there, but I couldn't get to her in time. Japanese soldiers interrupted him before he could kill me too.” The prince explained shakily. “I ran away after that and I've been in hiding ever since.”

Jeremiah's blood ran cold. Lady Marianne's assassination had been blamed on terrorists. It had been blamed on extremists from a country whose uprising she'd just put down. But if that were a lie . . . if instead it had been an attempt to destroy the vi Britannia family by one of their enemies, then bringing Prince Lelouch back to the homeland would only mean his death.

“Please.” The prince begged, “Please, I'll do anything you want, just don't send me back there. And don't tell them about me. Not any of them. I don't want to die.”

“Please don't beg me, your highness. I am nothing but a servant.” He said softly. It was unbelievable that a prince could be brought so low. But it had been eight years since he'd been at court and eight years since he'd been addressed with the respect due his station. “I'll keep your secret.”

The prince visibly sagged in relief, bracing himself against the wall behind him. “Thank you.” He said quietly, bowing his head.

So now what? Now what? Would they part ways? Would the prince disappear back into whatever life it was he'd been leading up until now and they never see each other again? That's what the prince wanted, wasn't it? No contact with the royal family and he was a Royal Guard, so of course the prince wouldn't want to be seen associating with him either.

But . . . but he couldn't just let it end that way. He couldn't just watch Lady Marianne's son walk away without knowing if he would be alright. That was impossible.

He closed his eyes and sighed. “May I ask you for a favour, your highness?”

“Huh?” The prince asked ineloquently.

“Please allow me to help you in whatever way you need. Be it money or connections, I'll help you in whatever way I can.” He said, handing the prince his card. “All you have to do is ask me and I'll give you anything in my power to give.”

Prince Lelouch stared down at the card for a moment before looking up and boring into him with his gaze. “Why?”

“I owe you at least that much for failing to protect Empress Marianne.”

“For Mother, huh?” The prince said quietly before glancing away with a shrug and stuffing the card into his pocket. “Well . . . I don't like asking people for help, but I'll keep it in case of emergencies.”

“Thank you for granting me at least that much use, your highness.” He said with a formal bow.

“Listen, can you stop with all of that bowing and kneeling and 'your highness'ing? I haven't been a prince in a long time. It's not really necessary.” Prince Lelouch said awkwardly. “I'm just Lelouch now.”

He stared at the boy awkwardly for a moment, weighing the pros and cons of such disrespect. But then again, he'd practically mauled the boy only a few minutes ago when he'd been trying to get a look at his face. “I can try . . . your highness.”

The prince glared at him before checking his watch, a cheap digital thing, and cursing under his breath. “I have to go. They'll start to worry now that I've been gone for so long.”

“Of course.” He said, restraining himself from asking just who would be worrying about him. He desperately wanted to know what the boy's life had been like since watching Princess Nunnally's assassination and setting off on his own, but he knew that the prince neither had the time nor the inclination to explain it to him. “Will you keep in contact?”

Prince Lelouch chuckled, already turning away out the alley. “No.” He answered simply, with a backhanded wave. “Not unless there's an emergency.”

 

***

 

It had taken all of Suzaku's self-restraint not to snap Jeremiah Gottwald's neck when he'd suddenly grabbed Lelouch on the street. It had been touch and go for a moment, but he supposed he was glad that he'd held himself in place. Gottwald had turned out to be even easier for Lelouch to manipulate than anticipated, even going so far as to openly pledge his assistance to Lelouch.

So he supposed his brother would be able to mark this down as a victory as well. Part of him was bitter about it. It would have been like karma if the plan had backfired after Lelouch had so irreverently used both his mother's and Nunnally's deaths to manipulate the nobleman. It was heartless.

But then again, this wouldn't be the first time someone had accused Lelouch of that.

He slipped out of the alley a block away from where the meeting had taken place, falling into step next to Lelouch as they began making their way home. According to Lelouch's intelligence, they'd be able to snag a ride with the Britannian ferryman, codenamed Charon, if they could make it to Toyama by noon. That would land them back home sometime in the wee hours of the morning tomorrow.

“How are you feeling?” He finally asked, unwilling to let the silence continue to drag on.

“As you expected.” Lelouch answered, pulling the card he'd received from Gottwald out of his pocket and scrutinizing it closely.

Which meant that he did regret using today and the deaths of his family members to manipulate a target. It only mollified him slightly, because he wasn't really vindictive enough to want Lelouch to feel like shit, even if they did disagree.

“Did Gottwald react as you'd expected?” He asked, instead of pressing further on the subject or gloating in his victory.

“Better, actually.” Lelouch mumbled, still staring contemplatively at the card.

“He was so defenceless back there. Somehow, I was expecting more from the fearsome Margrave Gottwald. Either one of us could have easily killed him.” Suzaku said. He'd expected more security for someone who was so important.

He might not know everything about Gottwald, but he did know that he was the bastard responsible for their defeat a few months ago. Actually, he knew that Gottwald was the one responsible for pretty much everything that had gone wrong with the war since its onset. It was easy to tell when General Bartley, the man who was supposedly in charge of the military, was commanding the field. Those tended to be the times when they were able to gain ground.

“And then where would we be?” Lelouch asked.

“Pushing back into Kyushu. Taking back the rest of Japan.” He said, like it was obvious.

Lelouch snorted. “You're so heavy handed. Honestly, you need to work on your finesse. He's more useful to us alive.”

“How so?” He asked darkly.

“That man back there is the true Viceroy of Area Eleven.” Lelouch revealed. “Clovis is his mouthpiece and nothing more.”

“So then we doubly should have killed him.” Suzaku grumbled. If Gottwald was really as powerful as Lelouch said he was, then he should definitely be killed.

“And let Clovis run rampant after his death? Clovis might not be as cunning as Gottwald, but do not underestimate his capability to shed blood. If there's anything he hates, it's losing. When Clovis is backed into a corner, he ends the game by flipping the board rather than letting someone else win. Nothing I've seen has led me to believe that he's changed over the years.” Lelouch said darkly. “Gottwald, at least, restrains his wrath to our soldiers. Clovis would probably take it out on the civilians living in the ghettos.”

“I can't believe that he's actually your brother.” Suzaku sighed.

“You're the only brother I have.” Lelouch countered immediately. “After all, Lelouch vi Britannia is dead.”

“I suppose.” Suzaku said with a shrug.

“Speaking of that, do you remember how I was supposed to have died?” Lelouch asked with a frown.

The truth was that he couldn't remember. It was eight years ago and he'd had a whole slew of other things on his mind, what with his mother's death, the invasion of his country, the loss of Nunnally, and being on the run for his life. He hadn't really been paying attention to his father's political manoeuvring at the time. Well, that, and he'd been much too young to even care. All he'd known was that the Britannians thought Lelouch was dead so they wouldn't be sending anyone after him.

“No. Why?” He asked.

“It's nothing.” Lelouch said, glancing away.

Suzaku frowned. Something was bothering Lelouch. He wished he'd watched the meeting with Gottwald from a closer vantage point. As it was, he'd only been able to hear snippets, and that was only after he'd snuck closer toward the end when Gottwald offered to help Lelouch.

Lelouch took a deep breath and stretched his arms over his head as they walked, staggering slightly.

“You're drunk.” Suzaku chuckled.

Lelouch sent him a sour look. “Of course not. I'm only slightly inebriated.”

Which, for Lelouch, was true. He'd seen his brother piss drunk on plenty of occasions and could readily testify that if Lelouch could still walk, he wasn't actually that drunk. Still, there was something to be said for the fact that Lelouch could manipulate a high profile target even while intoxicated.

“Let's go home.” He grumbled, rather than replying.


	9. Nothing As It Seems

_Lelouch shifted nervously in his seat, hands folded tightly in his lap as he waited outside the door to the Prime Minister's office. He was nervous. No, he was scared. A man in an impeccable black suit had come to get him this morning, summoning him after breakfast while Suzaku was in his lessons with Colonel Tohdoh._

_It was the first time in the two months since the invasion began that he'd been separated from Suzaku. Usually, he sat to the side and watched Suzaku do his lessons so as to not be left alone with these people who were, on the whole, more or less hostile to him._

_So he was scared._

_He kept his head down, staring at his knees as important people walked by, paces brisk and self-confident. For the most part, they ignored him. He knew that this was it. There was no reason to separate him from Suzaku if they weren't about to do something his friend would disapprove of. They'd finally decided on his fate. After suffering loss after loss, they'd finally decided that there was a better use for him than playmate to the Prime Minister's son._

_Matsuki Harou emerged from the Prime Minister's office about a half hour after he'd been instructed to wait there and sent him a warm smile. He'd met the man a couple times before, always hovering in the Prime Minister's shadow, a seemingly endless wealth of information kept in his brain._

_“The Prime Minister will be just a few minutes longer, Lelouch-sama. He's on an important phone call. Can I get you anything while you wait?” The man asked, frowning disapprovingly at the lack of anything that would be of interest to a child nearby._

_“I'm fine, Matsuki-san. But thank you for the offer.” He said diplomatically, trying not to let his nerves show._

_“Would you mind if I sat with you while you waited?” The secretary asked._

_He shook his head, wondering why the man had even bothered to ask. It wasn't like he had the right to deny him. He had no rights at all. He was just a prisoner of war kept clean and comfortable due to his heritage._

_Matsuki sat right next to him despite the two other chairs that were available in the anteroom and leaned back, utterly relaxed. Lelouch privately wondered if the man was there to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't run away, or if Matsuki was just sloughing off work and taking a break._

_“Do you have a favorite colour, Lelouch-sama?” The secretary asked after a few moments of companionable silence._

_Purple, like the throne room of the Imperial Palace, immediately came to mind. He almost said it too before he thought better of it. It had been surrounded by that colour that he'd been condemned by his father and exiled. It had been surrounded by that colour that Nunnally's death sentence had been announced._

_“I don't have a preference.” He said neutrally._

_The man beside him sighed and looked like he was about to say something, but his cellphone rang and interrupted the conversation. He glanced at the screen, but didn't answer it. Instead, he pushed himself to his feet before bowing slightly to Lelouch._

_“The Prime Minister will see you now, Lelouch-sama.”_

_He rose stiffly, fighting to suppress the tremors that wracked his body. He was sure his knees were shaking and he knew for certain that his heart was racing as he was escorted behind the thick wooden door of the Prime Minister's office._

_Genbu Kururugi was not sitting behind the daunting desk in front of the window. Instead, he was seated on one of two loveseats placed before an ornate fireplace. A fire crackled cheerfully in the hearth even though it wasn't cold outside, casting a warm, orange glow over the scene. The Prime Minister gestured for him to take the opposing loveseat, which he did without argument._

_“That will be all for now, Harou.” Genbu dismissed, though his eyes never left Lelouch._

_He did his best to swallow his nerves and averted his gaze as the secretary left. For some reason he wished the man hadn't been dismissed. It had only been for a moment, but Matsuki Harou hadn't treated him with the same scorn the rest of the Japanese usually did when he'd decided to sit next to him and ask him about his favourite colour. That didn't mean the man was his ally, but it did mean that the man wasn't his enemy, right?_

_“Prince Lelouch,” The Prime Minister said eventually, “I wanted to take this opportunity to discuss your future.”_

_He could feel his face go pale and his lips go numb. “I see.” He said leadenly. He knew it. This was it. The end._

_There was a long moment of silence before the Prime Minister spoke again, “Do you want to go back to Britannia?”_

_He froze, heartbeat stuttering to a stop. Was that it? They were going to barter him back to Britannia in return for a cease fire? It wouldn't work. Besides, what was there for him to go back to? His family was dead. All that was left was a father that despised him and half siblings that had always scorned him. He wouldn't make it if he went back. He was weak and Britannia was a land where survival of the fittest was law._

_In any case, he'd already become a traitor. If the Britannians ever found out that he'd fed the Japanese Britannian tactics, he'd be sentenced to death even if he was a prince. And . . . and if he went back to Britannia, he'd never be able to see Suzaku again._

_He shook his head mutely and didn't miss the way the Prime Minister sighed quietly in relief._

_“Then, would you like to stay with us?” The man asked, earning a tentative nod from Lelouch._

_He would like to stay with Suzaku. If he was given the choice, he would always choose to stay with Suzaku. He was the only one left that cared, the only person left that Lelouch could trust._

_Genbu smiled slightly, the expression warm and welcoming. “Then I would like to adopt you, Lelouch. You would be my son in the eyes of the law, and Suzaku's brother.”_

_Lelouch froze, unsure what to say. That hadn't even crossed his mind. He'd been expecting some kind of list of rules and guidelines for his conduct within the house. No, what he'd really been expecting was to be made into a servant and forced to serve them. It had been the only way he'd been able to see him being allowed to stay with Suzaku and it had been something he'd been willing to do, his pride be damned._

_But to be adopted, to become Suzaku's brother . . . he'd never even imagined such a possibility._

_“You don't have to. I won't pressure you.” The man reassured him. “But it would be easier for me to protect you. There are many who despise you merely because of who your father is. This can prevent them from acting against you. But either way, I will still protect you, Lelouch-sama.”_

_“I would like to.” He said cautiously, uncertain if this was a cruel joke or some test of resolve. But if there was even a chance of being able to stay by Suzaku's side as his equal, he had to reach for it with both hands. “Please.”_

_Genbu smiled broadly. “Will you give up your name?”_

_“Yes.” Lelouch answered immediately. If that was all there was to the test, then he would undoubtedly pass. There was nothing left to tie him to Britannia, especially not his father's name._

_The Prime Minister flipped open a manila folder and turned it toward him on the coffee table between them. He'd already had the adoption papers prepared. He stared at the document, eyes skimming over the foreign characters. He was still learning to read Japanese, but that was fine since his eyes were having a hard time leaving a single part of the page anyway. His name._

_Kururugi Lelouch._

_It was like the end of a chrysalis. He was reborn as someone else. Lelouch vi Britannia was dead and only Kururugi Lelouch remained._

 

***

 

“You're not going to your office this morning?” Suzaku asked curiously. Granted, Lelouch had gone on a bit of a bender once they'd returned from Tokyo, but it was unlike his brother to miss work even if he did have a hangover.

“I have something I need to take care of first.” Lelouch answered, pulling a kimono and hakama from his wardrobe.

Suzaku quirked his eyebrow at the sight of the clothing. Lelouch only wore Japanese clothing for important meetings or special occasions. He wondered just what this thing Lelouch needed to take care of was.

“You're with Munakata today, right?” Lelouch asked.

Suzaku grimaced at the thought. It was a part of his education. Once a week, he spent the day shadowing one of his father's advisers. He took part in their day to day decision making processes and learned everything there was to know about their respective jobs.

Munakata was his least favourite, though that wasn't necessarily to say that he liked any of the others. None of them approved of Lelouch, which automatically put them at odds with Suzaku. But Munakata was the only one that didn't hesitate to speak of his disapproval. He was also the one who wielded the most power within the board of advisers. It made him especially frustrating.

“Play nice.” Lelouch admonished. “Don't let him get a rise out of you. I don't care what he says about me, so just focus on learning what you can from him.”

“Easy for you to say.” Suzaku grumbled. “You don't have to put up with him.”

“Then think of it this way; once you take power, you don't necessarily have to keep him around. You'll be able to slowly cut him out of your administration. So just bear with him for now. It's only a temporary measure.” Lelouch said.

Which, of course, he'd already known to be true. Whether or not Munakata stayed on the board of advisers when he became the Prime Minister was still up for debate, but it was certain that he would be losing his position as the most influential member of the board. That void would be filled by none other than Lelouch himself.

Not that his brother was aware of those plans, but there was no one whose advice he trusted more. It just made sense.

“Fine. I'll behave. I promise. Jeez, you're worse than a mother.” He grumbled with a long-suffering sigh.

“Well someone has to keep you in line.” Lelouch said, pulling on the clothes that he'd selected before examining himself in the mirror. Once deeming himself acceptable, the ex-prince headed for the door. “I've got to go. Just remember to bite your tongue if he pisses you off. Please.”

“Yeah. I already said I would.” He replied with an aggravated sigh as he watched his brother leave.

He briefly toyed with the thought of following Lelouch to see where he was going, but a glance at the clock told him that he didn't have enough time. Shadowing Munakata was never fun, but it was slightly more bearable if he showed up on time and didn't piss the man off right off the bat.

So he headed for his meeting instead, arriving ten minutes early but still the last to arrive. Munakata gave him a smile similar to someone who had just eaten something that tasted disgusting but didn't want to offend the cook. The feeling was mutual. He would grin and bear it for his father's sake, and because there were things that he still needed to learn about the ruling of this country.

But he wouldn't enjoy it.

 

***

 

Lelouch stared at the door to the Prime Minister's office with a tangible amount of dread. He'd never actually done this before. He'd been summoned, sure, but this was the first time he'd decided to come here of his own free will. He'd called Matsuki Harou last night in a slightly drunken daze and had asked if there would be time in Genbu's schedule for a meeting with him, to which the secretary had replied that there was always time in the Prime Minister's schedule for his sons.

He'd almost argued and told the man that he wasn't asking for the appointment as a son, but rather as an agent, but had decided against it in the end. Besides, it wouldn't have been true. This was personal business even if he had discovered it during an operation.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, steadying himself and forcing back the lingering headache from drinking his guilt away last night. He was expected and the first appointment of the Prime Minister's day. Hesitating only cut into the hour of time Matsuki had allotted for his meeting. He knocked twice and was immediately bade to enter.

Unlike his last official meeting with Genbu, the man wasn't immersed with his other work. The desk was clear of clutter and vacant. Instead, the Prime Minister was seated at a table covered with breakfast foods near the window.

“Lelouch.” Genbu greeted warmly, seeming genuinely pleased with the situation. But then again, Genbu probably thought that he was finally putting an effort into their pseudo father-son relationship. The smile he sent the man was strained.

“Dad.” He said, keeping his voice even as he sat across from the man.

“Have you eaten yet?” Genbu asked.

“No.” He answered. It wasn't a lie, but he didn't usually eat breakfast anyway. He served himself a piece of toast and some fruit salad from the table's spread.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only sound breaking the void the scraping of their cutlery. Somehow it didn't feel right to break this atmosphere with his concerns.

Eventually, Genbu sighed. “It's not often that you seek me out, Lelouch. Usually I have to get Harou to track you down just to get a few words in with you.”

Lelouch didn't reply. He couldn't; it was the truth. And he wasn't necessarily very apologetic about it. So he avoided eye contact even though all of his training was telling him to keep his chin up and his gaze level.

The Prime Minister let out another sigh. “Suzaku said you were going to make contact with Gottwald the other day. I take it things went well?”

“They did.” Lelouch answered, relieved to be able to talk about something work related. “Lord Gottwald proved to be more receptive to my manipulations that I'd anticipated. But I need to wait until the situation reaches crisis before I can make contact with him again.”

“That's good, though the way things are going, the situation will escalate soon.” The Prime Minister said. “We've had reports that Lord Platt has requested an audience with the Viceroy next week. It's likely that he will use the opportunity to plead the registration law's case to the prince.”

“I see. I will look into the details of that meeting. It might serve as a convenient coincidence for what I have planned.” Lelouch said.

Genbu nodded and the conversation ebbed away into silence again. Lelouch stared out the window, trying to work up his nerve. There was just something about Genbu that had always made him feel uncertain of himself. It was probably due to the fact that he'd always known that his life rested in the man's palm, but he'd always been a bit intimidated.

He could face down rampaging assailants, imperial spies and racist abuse, but a frown from Genbu that always sent chills down his spine.

And there it was, the Prime Minister's trademark frown. Lelouch clenched his jaw, feeling his shoulders tense up under the weight of it. Every time he saw it, it felt like his life was dangling over the edge of a precipice with only Genbu's weathered mercy keeping up him.

“What did you come here for, Lelouch? This obviously isn't it. It's unlike you to waste time like this.” Genbu said sternly.

He was right. Lelouch was wasting time. He was wasting time because . . . because maybe the reason he'd come here wasn't all that important after all. It had seemed urgent last night, and he could usually trust in his decision making even when intoxicated, but maybe he'd made a mistake this time.

Besides, knowing wouldn't actually change anything.

“Out with it.” The Prime Minister snapped.

“Did you -” He began, then cut himself off and rephrased the question. “Eight years ago, how did you announce my death to the royal family?”

“I made an announcement that you and your sister were killed in a Knightmare strike. That the building you'd been taking shelter in collapsed.” Genbu answered, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Of course. What had he been thinking? Letting people think that he'd had children tortured to death wouldn't have been Genbu's style. It had been someone else. Someone else had been so anxious to have them dead that they hadn't even been able to wait and confirm the bodies. Who would have benefited from something like that?

One of his siblings? One of the Empresses? A final end to the vi Britannia line. It wasn't like it was the first time someone had said it would just be best if they'd all disappeared. And it wasn't like they'd have ever returned to reveal the ruse. It had been a safe gamble.

He almost wanted to expose himself just to spite whoever had done this. Especially for using the Japanese as a scapegoat. The Kururugis were the ones who had protected him during the initial invasion. As if the Prime Minister would have done something so heinous.

“Why?” Genbu asked.

“It was something Gottwald said.” He answered reluctantly. “Someone made a video of kids who looked like me and Nunnally being tortured and claimed it came from the Japanese. Apparently it looked real enough to fool the royal family and people like Gottwald who had met us in real life.”

The Prime Minister snorted in disappointment. “And of course you automatically suspected me.”

Lelouch glanced away sheepishly. It was stupid now that he thought about it. “I just wanted to confirm that you knew nothing about it. I want to know who wanted me dead so badly that they had to fake it.”

“Perhaps it wasn't about you.” Genbu suggested.

Lelouch paused, considering the statement. How could his own death not be about him? What else could it be about?

. . .

The Japanese. The only other player present in that video would have been the Japanese. And who would have benefited from making them look like sadistic child killers? Of course. What a boost for Britannian morale. Suddenly the war wasn't about expansion or securing resources. No, it was about _justice_. It was about revenge, and what good Britannian didn't like taking revenge on those who had wronged them?

His eyes narrowed into a glare. He would have to look into it, confirm some facts, but he could definitely see the Emperor of Britannia ordering the production of such a film more than he could see it from Genbu. Especially if there had been any resistance to the Empire's expansion.

It seemed he had a new side project.

***

 

Jeremiah rubbed his hand tiredly over his eyes and sipped at the wine Dirk had brought him after another long day of cleaning up Clovis' messes and trying to steer the bullheaded prince in the right direction. Most days, it was like herding cats, but lately it seemed even worse than usual. Or maybe it was just that his head wasn't completely in the game these days.

Had that really been Prince Lelouch that he had met on the street outside the Fox Hunt? Or had it been an imposter sent to distract him? It wasn't exactly a secret that he had once served the vi Britannias and neither was it a secret that he would have preferred to be serving them still. And what were the chances that the prince would just so happen to stumble by at the same time he left the Fox Hunt?

If it weren't so subtle, he would have suspected Clovis of sending the boy. But Clovis couldn't be subtle even if his life depended on it. If the Viceroy had ever thought of distracting him with an imposter of Prince Lelouch, he would have paraded the boy in front of him at court. But then again, would any imposter have been able to keep up the charade under the scrutiny of the court and the royal family? He was sure that any whisper of Prince Lelouch's survival would bring half the royal family to Area Eleven just to confirm the fact.

Ugh. He'd practically pledged loyalty to the mysterious boy he'd met on the street, swearing to do whatever he could to help him. He blamed that primarily on the amount of liquor he'd imbibed that evening. He wasn't usually so generous with his favours.

Unless it really had been Prince Lelouch. Years ago, he'd watched from a distance as Empress Marianne had doted on the boy. It had been evident for all to see that her children were her pride and joy. And it had been Empress Marianne that had kick started his career. She'd taken him under her wing and instructed him on everything he would need to know to make a good guardsman, Knight and officer. He owed it to her memory to protect the things that had been precious to her.

So if it had been Prince Lelouch - the real, genuine article - then he supposed the deal still stood. But if it hadn't been him . . . he would find the person using such low tactics to distract him and kill them, and then he would rip the prince's face off the boy.

He let out another low sigh and wished that the hope would die in his chest. It was a terrible thing. The little, incessant whispering voice asking him 'But what if it is the prince?'. What if it really was Marianne's son? A rightful prince and heir of the Empire?

Should he really just leave him alone and without protection? When he thought about their meeting and about how woefully unprotected the boy had been, he couldn't help but get anxious. He needed a bodyguard at the very least, if not a full guard detail.

He could do that much couldn't he? Find the prince and see that he was protected. A dozen guards shadowing the prince would put him more at ease. They'd be able to keep him safe from anything that might dare to threaten him.

But it would also inevitably draw attention to him. And with attention drawn to him, there was always a possibility that the enemies of the vi Britannia line would find him. If he couldn't absolutely guarantee that he could protect him, he shouldn't get involved, right? After all, the boy had been taking care of himself for eight years already without incident.

And how could he know just who to protect him from, anyway? According to the boy he'd met on the street two nights ago, Princess Nunnally had been murdered by a _Britannian_ assassin. Someone from the capitol had decided to end the vi Britannia line down to the very last child. How could he protect the prince if he didn't even know who the enemy was? Especially when there was a large chance of the enemy being one of the very highest members of society? There was even a chance it was another member of the Imperial family that was out to get rid of the vi Britannia line. Actually, if he thought about it, that particular outcome was most likely.

And how was he supposed to protect someone from royals?

So he should respect the boy's wishes and forget they'd ever met, shouldn't he? That was the outcome the logic dictated, but he just couldn't accept it. His mind had been running in circles ever since he'd met the boy, agonizing over whether or not it was really Lady Marianne's son, and what he should do to protect or assist the boy.

He massaged his temples. He was probably getting himself worked up over nothing. After all, what was more likely? That the boy was an imposter sent before him for political reasons, or that the prince had been alive and in hiding all of this time? He'd seen the evidence with his own eyes. He'd seen them die.

Ultimately, it came down to either Prince Lelouch died a bloody, painful death at the hands of the Japanese and the boy he'd met outside the Fox Hunt was an imposter, or Prince Lelouch was still alive and in hiding, while someone had decided to fake his death. If the later were the case, he might have suspected the boy himself, except for his genuine surprise over the video's existence.

Around and around in circles. He kept agonizing over this but he never came to any kind of resolute conclusion. He didn't have enough information to act no matter which scenario he was leaning toward, and according to the boy the likelihood of them running into each other again was slim.

He needed to clear his head, and nothing did that better than firing a few rounds from his gun. He could work on his aim and slough off his frustration at the same time. He could always use practice with moving targets.

“Dirk, tell my driver to get the car ready.” He said, draining the last of his glass before pushing himself out of his chair to go change clothes. He hardly needed to wear his uniform to the local firing range.

 

***

 

Kallen let herself relax, her posture slumping in relief now that she was finally away from her stepmother's scrutiny. There was no one here to report back to the witch about her actions or appearances. She ran her hand through her hair, deliberately ruffling it up in hope that the straightened bob she'd styled it into that morning would be destroyed. Her brief examination of her reflection in the underground train's window told her that it hadn't worked. She still looked just like Lady Stadtfeld wanted her to – minus the scowl.

She did this sometimes when she needed breathing room. She'd hopped on the first train to pull into the station, snagging herself a window seat as she aimlessly rode the line. She'd get off when the mood struck her or when something caught her eye. She had no destination in mind, nothing that she needed to do. She just had to ensure that she got back before dinner.

She sighed as she let the tension seep out of her. Her stepmother was a big enough source of stress in her life, but lately Milly was just as bad. But in a good way, she supposed. Ever since they'd agreed to room together next year, Milly had been even more uncontrollable than usual. She'd already contacted a realtor and had made an appointment to go apartment shopping next weekend. She'd also already picked out their tableware and half of their furniture. It was worse than a kid in a candy shop.

Kallen had wisely stayed out of her way and just agreed with whatever Milly had chosen. After years of friendship, she'd learned that it was easier to just let Milly run wild and hope for the best rather than try to enforce some order around her. Things usually turned out for the better in Milly's hands anyway (with the exception of her repeated attempts at making the world's largest pizza).

The mood to abandon the train struck her when an elderly lady smelling of cabbages sat down in the seat next to her. She politely made her way toward the door and waited for the next stop, which turned out to be right downtown. The station popped her out in the middle of Central Plaza, a sprawling open area in front of the Viceroy's Palace where the majority of the city's festivals and celebrations took place. To commemorate the founding of the Empire, they even set off fireworks from the rooftop garden of the Viceroy's Palace every year so that all of the revellers in the plaza could see them.

But for now it was the middle of winter and small skiffs of dirty snow rested in the least used areas of the square. She took a deep breath of the crisp winter air and glanced up at the sky – clear and bright. What little snow they had would probably be melted by the time the sun set.

She found an unoccupied bench and sat, tugging her coat closer around her to ward off the slight chill the breeze brought with it. All in all, it was a nice day for the middle of January. It was made doubly enjoyable by the lack of people. Every other time she'd been here, the plaza had been packed with people, vendors peddling their wares, food booths and carnival games. But today, so close after Christmas, practically no one was shopping at the expensive boutiques surrounding the square.

She watched the few people that were in the plaza, mostly upper class business men and women crossing to a pub on the corner after work, and let her thoughts wander. She still hadn't told her parents that she'd applied to Ashford University. Nor had she told them that come the day after her graduation she'd be moving out. She couldn't imagine that they'd have many complaints about the first, but the latter was some cause for concern.

It wasn't like they disliked Milly, but befriending her at school and moving out to live with her were completely different things. Besides, she'd be harder to control if she wasn't firmly within their sphere of power.

Maybe she should start sneaking her things out now. She could probably keep them in Milly's garage until moving day. Then she'd be able to run away unencumbered. She'd have to talk to Milly about it. Of course, it could only be small things. Anything bulky would undoubtedly be noticed by her evil stepmother.

“What do you mean you won't serve me?!” A loud voice demanded, cutting off her thoughts. A little ways away there was a Japanese food vendor. He was one of the only street vendors still out at this time of year, despite the chilly weather. Standing across from the vendor was a kid probably no older than twelve or thirteen, face flushed in anger. “You stinking Eleven! I said give me one.”

“Can you pay for it? This isn't a charity.” The vendor retorted.

“I'm a Britannian! You can't treat me like this. You're lucky I'm even willing to approach your crappy stall.” The kid all but shouted.

The vendor closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “In that case, please take your business elsewhere. If I were going to give away free food to kids, I know a hundred kids more worthy than a brat like you.”

Kallen smirked. Good on him. A lot of Japanese in his place probably would have caved and just given the brat what he wanted.

The child looked stunned at the adamant refusal, but that expression only lasted for a moment before it morphed into anger. “Terrorist!” The child bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Rebel! This man is a spy for the Japanese!”

“What are you –? Stop that!” The vendor said frantically, hands outstretched as though to stop the boy but hesitant to touch him.

“This man's a rebel!”

“I said stop, you little shit! You can have your god damned food.” The vendor cursed.

The boy didn't stop.

There was something fundamentally wrong with a world in which a full grown man's life could be threatened by the whims of a child. It wouldn't be the first time the police had taken an innocent Japanese prisoner based on accusations of groundless hearsay. Kallen couldn't stand seeing stuff like this. She hated it when she saw full grown adults taking advantage of the Japanese, but to witness a child doing the same?

She was off her bench and storming toward the stall before she was able to talk herself into turning a blind eye like most of the other people in the plaza. She honed in on the child and her hand raised of its own accord, landing on the boy's cheek with an audible clap that snapped him out of his tirade.

“Go home.” She ordered furiously. “Only ignorant little brats play with someone's life like this because they're bored or didn't get their way.”

The boy looked shell shocked and she could tell that he'd never been slapped before. That thought alone almost made her recoil. Was she really no better than Lady Stadtfeld? But . . . what was worse? Slapping a child or watching an innocent man condemned to death for not giving away his goods for free? No, given the choice, she'd slap the child every time.

“Get!” She snapped, as though she were chasing off a stray dog instead of a pudgy little Britannian boy.

The child stumbled back from her and glanced at the Eleven, as though looking for help from this new threat. As if. Kallen glared menacingly and he turned tail and fled. She watched him go for a moment, making sure that he was actually leaving before she sent a sympathetic smile to the vendor.

“Thank you.” The vendor said, bowing stiffly. Now that she was closer she could see that he was actually younger than she'd first suspected. He was probably no more than twenty, with close cropped dark hair under his hat and dark, Japanese eyes.

“It's fine.” She said, shrugging off his gratitude. “I just hate seeing things like that.”

“Even so, I'm very grateful. If the police had come while he'd been saying stuff like that they probably would have just hauled me away without question.” He said with a tense laugh before gesturing to his stall. “Anything you want, it's on the house for you.”

“Isn't that what you just refused the brat?” She asked, an amused smirk falling on her lips.

“Ah, but that was to a fat little boy trying to swindle me, not the cute girl that came to my rescue.” He replied with a smile that showed his even white teeth.

She felt herself blushing at the flattery, even though it was stupid. “It's fine. I'm not really hungry.” She said as she glanced down at the hotdogs sizzling away on the grill. She felt her stomach churn just looking at them. She'd never been a fan of tubes of mystery meat.

“But I have to repay you somehow. You're making me feel ungrateful.” He said.

She frowned, hesitating for a moment as she ran her gaze over the stand. But there was really nothing visible that she wanted. Instead, she found herself scrutinizing the vendor himself. He looked harmless enough, just a regular guy doing what he had to to survive. And she'd just had an idea, something she'd always wanted to do but had never had the chance.

“What's your name?” She asked.

“Garret.” He answered immediately.

She quirked her eyebrow at him. A lot of Japanese that had regular contact with Britannians changed their names to make it easier for their conquerors to converse with them. And she supposed it probably went a long way to show that you were willing to conform to Britannian norms if you were a Number.

“'Garret', huh? What's your real name?” She asked again.

This time there was a moment of hesitation before he answered, “Gin.” He said quietly.

“I'm Kallen.” She said, offering her hand to shake. He took it tentatively as though unfamiliar with the gesture. Though it was probably likely that he'd never had a Britannian offer to shake his hand before.

“A pleasure to meet you.” He said politely, evidently uncomfortable by such formality.

“If you insist on paying me back, could you clear your schedule for Saturday?” She asked, intentionally misleading. “I have somewhere I want to go, but never had anyone to take me there.”

“Eh?” He asked in surprise before a confident smirk fell across his lips. “I'm sure I could free up my schedule for you.”

“Then Saturday at ten? I'll meet you here and we can go together.” She said, finalizing the deal.

“Sure. But just where is it that you want to go?” He asked.

She hesitated for a moment, but he'd find out in the end anyway so it didn't really matter. “I want you to take me into the ghettos.”

He recoiled slightly, face evidently showing his disbelief. “ _Why?”_ He asked emphatically.

“Because I want to see with my own eyes what the government and the media don't want the Britannians to see.” She said firmly.

“So I'm to be your tour guide?” He asked distastefully.

“I'd hardly call it tourism.” She countered. “Are you still in?”

He pursed his lips, considering it, before sighing. “On one condition. You have to do what I tell you to, when I tell you to with no questions asked. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to hide, you hide. Immediately. The ghettos aren't safe for Britannians.”

“I know. Hence why I've never gone before. I can abide by your condition.” She agreed.

“Then yeah, I guess I'll take you.” He said, though he'd lost most of his earlier enthusiasm.

She smiled gratefully at him and he returned it tentatively. What should have been a simple awkward moment, however, was interrupted by a cop butting into their conversation.

“Excuse me, Miss, did you happen to punish a little boy here recently?”

Kallen paused, then turned to look at the constable that had just approached her. He was only a little taller than her, but he was stocky and wore a disapproving frown on his lips. Somehow, she got the feeling that he wasn't here to commend her for disciplining an unruly child.

“I did.” She said, because there was no point in lying when she couldn't be certain that Gin would back her up. They'd just met after all, and for an Eleven to lie to a cop was practically a crime worthy of lifelong imprisonment. He probably wouldn't risk it for her, even if she had probably saved his life.

“The child is crying about an assaulter in the middle of the street and you've admit to your crime. I'm going to have to place you under arrest.” The officer explained calmly.

The brat didn't waste any time, it seemed.

“Are you?” She asked, forcing false confidence.

It was all bravado. In reality, she'd just broken out into a cold sweat and her mind was running a constant loop of 'oh shit oh shit oh shit' in the background. Her step-mother would kill her if she got arrested. She'd be lucky if she was ever allowed to leave the estate again. She'd be locked in her room as the daughter who had brought shame on their family and the key would be thrown away.

Think!

She needed to talk her way out of this.

“I'm afraid so, Miss.” The constable said, already reaching for his handcuffs.

“Do you know who I am?” She demanded haughtily, drawing on the first thing that came to mind. No one would dare publicly shame a noble, especially not a Stadtfeld. Her family was among the most influential in the Empire, let alone Area Eleven. Her father regularly attended court in Pendragon. They had a massive reputation. It would be a scandal. The officer would probably lose his job.

“I don't, though while we're on the subject, I'd like to see your identification.” The officer said, obviously not intimidated by her.

“I'm Kallen Stadtfeld.” She said firmly, pulling her student ID out of her purse and displaying it for the officer to see. “My father is Earl Stadtfeld, the President of Stadtfeld Industries. And you're going to arrest me on the say so of some snot nosed brat?”

The cop looked like he'd swallowed something sour for a moment before he put the cuffs away and went for his notepad instead. “I'm terribly sorry, my lady. I was unaware of your identity. Perhaps you could give me your version of events instead?”:

“I punished a child that was trying to extort free food from this stall and wrongly accusing this man here of ridiculous crimes.” She answered immediately, hands on her hips to show she was still offended.

“And what is your relationship with this . . . . Eleven, my lady?” The constable asked.

She risked a glance at Gin, wanting to silently urge him to remain quiet, but he wasn't even looking at her. He'd gone rigid and was staring resolutely at the grill in front of him, not making eye contact with anyone. He was the very picture of terrified submission.

She hated it.

“He works for me.” She answered, turning back to the police officer. “Father decided it would be good to have some management experience before I join the company, so he gave me this stall to look after. Obviously, I can't have brats stealing food from it if I'm to show good reports to my father, right?”

“Of course, my lady.” The officer agreed. “I will have a talk with the boy about his conduct and we will drop the charges against your employee, since you insist that the accusations are the result of the boy's tantrum. Though, in the future, I might suggest you deal with such situations in a less physical fashion.”

“Thank you,” She said with a disdainful sniff. “And I'll be sure to take your suggestion into consideration next time, officer.”

He gave her a nod and a hesitant smile before turning away and heading back the way he'd come. She caught sight of the little bastard that had sicced the cop on her watching the scene from around the corner of one of the other stalls along with the cop's partner. Obviously, they hadn't considered her much of a threat from the start.

She sighed in relief, almost not believing that it had actually worked, before turning back to Gin. “Sorry. I just said the first thing that I thought of. I didn't mean to sound like I own you or anything like that.” She said awkwardly.

“Of course, Your Grace.” He said quietly.

She stared at him for a moment, and couldn't help the bubble of laughter that escaped her throat. “'Your Grace'?” She asked in amusement.

“What? You're like a -a-”

“A nothing.” She supplied.

“Whatever a woman earl is.” He countered.

“Countess would be the correct term, but that title belongs to my father's wife. I'm just the ungrateful stepchild.” She said. “I have no titles. There's no need to get formal with me. I'm just a regular person. I only acted like that to send the cop away.”

“If you say so.” He answered, though he was still distinctly uncomfortable.

“Are you scared of me now?” She asked. “Five minutes ago you were trying to flirt with me.”

He flushed slightly at the reminder before ducking his head to avoid her gaze. “I apologize for that. I should have known my place better.”

She sighed in aggravation. “Oh, shut up. Who my father is doesn't mean shit all when it comes to dealing with me. I'm me. I won't be lumped in with him just because he happened to get my mother pregnant.”

He looked like he didn't know what to say to that. He floundered for a moment, unprepared for her sudden outburst before simply nodding. She didn't know exactly what that meant, but it was better than the grovelling he'd been doing a moment ago.

She sighed again. “Look, are we still on for Saturday?”

“Yeah. I said I'd take you, so I will.” He said quietly.

“Then I'll see you on Saturday at ten.”

“Okay.” He agreed.

She frowned and wanted to say something else, something to end this meeting on a better note, but she couldn't really think of anything that would fix the situation. So she merely sent him a nod before turning away. On Saturday, she'd be sure to whip the subservient hesitance right out of him.  


	10. Imposters

_“We're not finished discussing this, Nathan!” Her father bellowed, slamming something on the desk downstairs. Kallen winced at the way the sound carried even all the way up to where she was perched at the second floor landing, eavesdropping on the argument. Her father rarely raised his voice; in fact, he rarely showed his anger at all. This was the first time she'd ever heard him this irate._

_“I am done.” Naoto said calmly. “I've said what I came here to say and nothing you say will change my mind.”_

_“You listen to me you ungrateful son of a bitch, you'll bring ruin on this family. Is that what you want? You're a Stadtfeld, damn it. And you will act as a Stadtfeld.” Their father snapped._

_“So I should sacrifice the other half of my family for the sake of your good name, Father? I refuse.”_

_“What family? The only other family you've got left is your mother, and she's right here! Everyone else is dead.” Their father continued. “What did you think you were going to do, huh? Run off in search of your uncle? He's dead by now too and even if he isn't, he wouldn't want anything to do with the disgraced half-breed son of his disowned sister.”_

_“If I'm such a disgrace, then you should find yourself a pure blooded heir and forget me.” Naoto countered._

_“You think I won't? If I had another son you wouldn't even be in this house right now!”_

_“Goodbye, Father. Take care of yourself.”_

_Kallen flinched again as the door slammed downstairs, quiet and disbelieving. Had Naoto really left? Had he really just walked out? They'd been arguing for the better part of an hour over her brother's decision to move out and legally change his name back to Naoto, but she really hadn't thought it would come to this._

_Good for him. It was about time they stopped denying who they really were just to save face for the Britannians. She was Japanese, damn it, even if her blood was tainted._

 

***

Kallen ran her hands through her hair; for once she'd been able to sneak out of the house without having it styled. Though if Lady Stadtfeld had caught sight of her before she'd left the house, her hair style would probably have been about the least of her worries. Her stepmother abhorred denim of any type as she found it 'low class' and 'uncouth'. How any kind of fabric could be 'uncouth', Kallen wasn't sure, but it was due to this unfounded hatred of denim that she only owned a single pair of jeans.

Jeans and a t-shirt. She could honestly say that she could probably count on her fingers the number of times in her life she'd ever dressed this casually. But she doubted a skirt and blazer would blend in very well in the ghettos.

She arrived at the Central Plaza ten minutes early, but Gin was already there and waiting, leaning up against the base of a statue of the Emperor with his arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the crowd. There were more people out today with it being a weekend, and the lone Eleven standing suspiciously in the center of the square was drawing more attention than she would have liked. The sooner they got out of here, the better.

“Morning, Gin.” She greeted with a wave as she approached.

“My Lady.” He replied with a half bow, earning a scowl from Kallen. But the expression was soon matched with a scowl of his own. “You came alone?”

“Just call me Kallen. And of course I came alone. Who else would I have brought with me?” She demanded.

“A bodyguard.” He said obviously.

“You're joking, right? It's not like I exactly told anyone where I was going today.” She said. Everyone thought she was over at Milly's and Milly had been kind enough not to ask questions when she'd asked for the alibi.

“Yeah yeah, hate for anyone to know that you're slumming it today, huh. You're way too trusting, you know that?” He griped. “You don't even know me and you're going to follow me into unknown territory? Do you know how much I could ransom you back to your parents for?”

“Is that your intention?” She asked, barely refraining from rolling her eyes.

“Would I tell you that if it was?” He asked in a deadpan.

She smirked. “Then don't you think that maybe I just read your character correctly instead of me being careless?”

She was just mouthing off now. She was well aware how dangerous and careless this was, and that it was possible that she would face some kind of perilous situation today. But she also knew that she was worth more alive and unharmed than she was dead. And unlike her stupid brother, she didn't give a shit about maintaining the family's wealth. It wasn't like she was going to suggest that Gin take her hostage, but it also wasn't like she hadn't considered the possibility. She'd considered all kinds of worst case scenarios but had still decided to risk it in the end.

“You're ridiculous, you know that?” He sighed before unzipping his hoodie and tossing it to her. “Put that on.”

“Excuse me?” She asked in surprise, staring at the threadbare garment.

“You show up in designer jeans and that cute little jacket that probably cost more than an Eleven sees all year, and expect me to take you on a tour of the ghettos? It's like painting a target on your back. Besides, your hair is way too conspicuous for Shinjuku anyway.”

She pursed her lips but he did have a point. And she had agreed to his condition of following his orders. So she pulled the too-big hoodie on over her coat and flipped up the hood, effectively masking her red hair and expensive clothing.

“Happy? You're going to freeze to death now.” She said, glancing at the thin t-shirt he'd been wearing beneath the hoodie. He already had goosebumps up his arms.

“It'll be fine. We'll be on the train for the first while anyway. Are you ready to go?” He asked.

“Waiting on you.” She replied.

They returned to the train station and rode it to the very end of the line. She'd never actually been this far down the line, as usually she was travelling in the opposite direction, so just this much was new to her. They crossed into the ghettos through a rundown street on the outskirts of what was technically still the Settlement, though it was definitely a low income area.

“Stick close, keep your head down and for God's sake don't talk to anyone.” Gin said grimly, walking so close to her that their shoulders almost touched. “And what exactly did you want to see in the ghettos anyway? It's not like there's anywhere to go, or anything to do here.”

“Let's get you a freaking coat before we do anything else.” She suggested, feeling sorry for him. It wasn't like the weather was particularly nice out and he had to be chilled to the bone.

“. . . Yeah, fine.” He grumbled, leading them further into the ghetto and down a side street, obviously familiar with the neighbourhood.

To Kallen, it was painfully apparent just where the Settlement ended and where the ghettos began. While the areas on the outskirts of the Settlement were certainly in a state of disrepair, the buildings were still intact and still showed evidence of being used. In the ghettos, it wasn't uncommon to see ruins that had been left untouched since the Japanese lost the city eight years ago, or derelict buildings that had been abandoned by the residents of the ghettos because they were unsafe to live in, even if they were still standing.

The boundary was also evident when observing the local demographics. Elevens weren't permitted to live within the Settlement's boundaries without express permission, and no Britannian with any sense would choose to live in the ghettos. The people of the ghettos were all Elevens, speaking in broken Britannian or hushed Japanese. She hated the reaction, but she drew a little closer to Gin all the same. She knew full well that this wasn't a safe place for her to be. She knew that she couldn't pass herself off as one of them, even if she was half Japanese.

Gin snorted in disdain. “Frightened by ordinary people? If that's your reaction, why'd you even bother coming here? I thought you wanted to see what they didn't want to show you. This is what they don't want to show you. Poverty. Abuse. Corruption. And just regular people trying to make their way through it all.”

She frowned and ducked her head, stung by the reprimand. “I just don't want to stand out and cause problems.” She grumbled.

“Yeah, whatever.” He sighed before turning down another narrow side street littered with garbage. “This way.”

He led her through a maze of alleys and ruined roads, twisting and turning so much that she knew she'd never be able to find her way back on her own. She did, however, manage to keep her bearings. She continually noted after each turn which direction was south. Even if she couldn't find her way back exactly the way they'd come, if something happened she could at least travel south and be assured that she'd eventually end up back in the Settlement.

When they stopped, they were outside of a small house. The building was intact, but hardly in good condition. It was obvious that it had been repaired at some point with building materials scavenged from the surrounding ruins. None of the siding matched, and half of the roof was missing shingles, covered by plastic tarps instead. Gin stomped off his boots on the step before opening the door for her and letting her in.

“Just stay here.” He ordered, leaving her in the foyer as he kicked off his shoes and moved further into the house.

“You're home early, Gin.” A middle-aged woman said in surprise as she came around the corner. “Oh, and you've brought someone with you.” The woman continued, though her smile took on a strained aspect. The woman sent Gin a worried glance. “Has something happened?”

“It's fine, Kaa-san. We'll be gone in a minute.” Gin reassured as he disappeared further into the house. Gin's mother sent her another concerned glance before following him in.

Kallen tried not to look as uncomfortable as she felt intruding on someone who obviously didn't want her in their home. She tucked her hands into the pockets of Gin's too big hoodie and examined the house. It was spare in a way that she'd never seen, but it also felt comfortable. It was lived in, which markedly contrasted to the Stadtfeld estate which often looked like it should be on the front of a magazine.

“So this was why he was freaking out all week.” Another voice interrupted, drawing her out of her comparison. “Scored himself a hot date with a Britannian. God knows he's always had expensive tastes. Come on, introduce yourself. I want to meet my brother's new girlfriend.”

The person speaking to her was a boy probably around the same age as her. He was smiling widely but in an altogether mischievous fashion that set her on edge. “How did you know that I'm Britannian?” She asked quietly. She still had the hood of Gin's sweater up and she'd been keeping her head down this whole time. There was no way he could have seen her face.

“It's obvious. Why else would he be hiding your face here? Come on, nee-chan, don't be shy.” The guy said before reaching over and pulling the hood off of her head. “I'm Kusunoki Shuji. What about you?”

“I'm Kallen.” She answered. It might be seen as rude not to give a full introduction, but she wasn't about to drop a noble surname here.

“Kallen-chan, huh?” The guy said with a laugh. “Tell me, how did that bastard convince you to go on a date with him? I mean, is he blackmailing you? A guy like nii-san couldn't possibly have -”

He cut off abruptly when Gin suddenly reappeared and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Running your mouth again, Shu?”

The younger brother held up his hands in mock surrender. “Just introducing myself to my new sister.”

“She's not my girlfriend.” Gin said with a scowl before turning on her and jerking her hood back up over her distinctive red hair. “And I told you not to talk to anyone.”

“Not my fault.” She protested. “He came at me out of nowhere.”

Shuji laughed at that before making a hasty retreat and almost bowling over his mother, who had come to see them off. They were out the door again within a minute, now both suitably dressed for the weather.

“So now what?” Gin asked. He seemed in an even fouler mood than he had been in earlier.

“Are you mad at me for talking to your brother?” She demanded, the words spilling from her lips before she could think to censor them. There was no point in arguing with him, especially not over something to trivial and especially not when she was counting on him to get her home later.

“Maybe I just didn't want to have to show off my family's situation to someone like you.” He retorted.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the admission and effectively knocked the fight out of her. She hadn't even considered his feelings when she'd practically ordered him to take her to his home. She remembered the first time that she'd ever gone to Shirley's house and how awkward and embarrassed her friend had been because she'd considered it inferior to the Stadtfeld estate, even though her family was well off. And without even thinking, she'd forced Gin into the same situation, even knowing full well that the Elevens were barely managing to scrape by.

She ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn't mean to intrude on your personal life.”

He sighed heavily before shaking his head. “Forget it.” They walked in silence for a few minutes before Gin finally sighed again. “Shinjuku Gyoen and Shinjuku Central Park have been taken over by the homeless. Tokyo City Hall was levelled to the ground. Waseda University is no longer in operation and the campus has been repurposed as a housing area. Mostly, it’s the orphans who wind up there. There's a bunch of people who keep them fed and clothed and give them places to sleep in the old classrooms. None of the old shopping districts are still open. So I'm not sure what you came here to see. If you just came here to gawk at the filthy Elevens living in poverty, well you can see that anywhere, can't you?”

“Never mind.” She said. Of course this wasn't going to be some kind of gracious homecoming. Of course he wasn't going to recognize her as one of them and treat her kindly. To him, she was nothing more than a spoiled Britannian noble out for some girlish adventure.

And in truth, that was all she was. How could she even hope to identify herself as Japanese when she'd spent her entire life in the lap of Britannian luxury? She couldn't even relate to them on the most basic level. They didn't understand her and she obviously didn't understand them. She had no idea even how to comprehend their suffering or their shame.

Gin was a prime example. She'd judged his character only by her own set of values. He'd seemed like a regular guy, down on his luck but still surviving. But that wasn't what he was. If anything, he was lucky. Lucky to still be alive despite the adversity he'd faced all these years living under Britannian rule. Lucky and proud – he stood up for his basic rights, he argued against those who would exploit him and he didn't immediately surrender in a fight he thought he could win.

And yet here he was escorting her through Shinjuku like some kind of indentured slave. What right had she had to ask such a thing of him? She'd recognized that he was afraid of her and she'd pressured him into this anyway.

How selfish. How greedy. How very Britannian of her.

“Sorry for all of this. Just take me back to the Settlement.” She said quietly. “Please.”

“If that's what you want.” He answered.

He took the next right, walking with her down an open area surrounded on either side by the decimated ruins of old office buildings. It looked like it used to be a busy thoroughfare, though the road was heavily damaged with small craters, making it difficult to walk on. It took her a few minutes to realize that this was all damage left by Knightmares. She found herself imagining what it must have been like when they'd been put there.

The street would have been filled with vehicles, jam packed maybe, during rush hour. The sidewalks would have been crammed with pedestrians too, making their ways to and from the subway station. And then Britannian Knightmares would have appeared and begun firing without discrimination on the crowd.

The fall of Tokyo was supposed to have been horrifically bloody, like the Britannians had had a grudge to settle. Civilians were slaughtered in droves. General Bartley had been censured for his overuse of force on non-combatants, though it was nothing more than a slap on the wrist, and the bastard had still maintained his position.

This street would have been literally soaked with the blood of innocent Japanese as advanced weapons like Knightmares were turned on harmless people. She felt faint just thinking about it and stumbled slightly.

“Careful.” Gin grumbled, grabbing her arm to keep her upright.

“Thanks.” She replied, but he wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was surveying their surroundings like he was afraid a wild animal was about to jump out at them. A minute later, he led her back off the road and into the ruins around them. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing. The cops sometimes patrol up ahead. It's more trouble than it's worth just for easy walking.” Gin shrugged, picking his way through an alley and over some debris before turning back to help her up.

“Why do they patrol here?” She asked. Technically, the ghettos would be out of their jurisdiction. The government didn't want to pay to maintain peace and order for Elevens. They thought it was a waste of resources. As far as she'd always been aware, the only time the police went into the ghettos was when there were after someone who had fled there.

“Entertainment.” Gin said darkly, but didn't elaborate.

Kallen frowned at the answer, about to question him further when Gin stopped dead in his tracks. “What?” She asked in surprise, almost running into his back.

Up ahead there was a group of three teenagers, two boys and one girl probably no older than fourteen, being harassed by a pair of cops in uniform. The two boys were standing protectively in front of the girl, but the policemen positively loomed over them.

“She said she was sorry. She didn't mean anything by it. It was an accident, sir.” One of the boys said loudly, earning a backhand from the officer.

“We're sorry for running!” The girl said frantically.

Gin hesitated for a moment, eyes narrowing dangerously before he stepped back. “Let's go back.” He said quietly, taking her by the arm. The police still hadn't seen them, too intent on their targets.

“What do you mean 'go back'?” She hissed under her breath. “We have to stop them.”

“No we don't. And I have no desire to take their place. Do you?” He growled back.

“You coward.” She snapped, earning a dark glare from him.

“Don't get involved in something you don't understand.” He growled back before throwing his arm around her shoulders and practically dragging her back the way they'd come. “You said you'd do what I say, right? So shut up and come with me.”

“We'll take it from here, bro. Better scatter.” Someone interrupted, patting Gin on the shoulder as two hooded guys jogged past them.

“Shit.” Gin cursed, watching anxiously as the two gathered a handful of stones from the rubble around them on their way forward. “Let's go, Kallen.”

“Duck!” One of the newcomers shouted in Japanese as they began rushing toward the police officers. The teens obeyed immediately, all three of them dropping to the ground as though their lives depended on it. The police turned to face the noise and were pelted by the rocks.

“You little bastards!” One of the cops shouted furiously, but the two attackers were already fleeing, disappearing into the ruins around them. The moment of inattention was all the teens needed as well, as they bounced back up onto their feet and took off in the opposite direction of their saviours.

Gin all but hauled her out of view as he began dragging her back up the alley they'd just come down. “Was that your brother?” She demanded in surprise. She'd only caught sight of his face for a split second after he'd thrown the rock, so she could have been mistaken but -

“Yeah. Little shit is going to get himself shot. I never should have taught him that.” Gin grumbled.

“At least he did something.” She huffed, pulling her arm out of his grasp so she could walk steadily beside him.

“What? You wanted me to throw a rock at those cops? And then what? You think you would have been able to keep up with me through the ruins? You don't know your way around this neighbourhood and you have no idea what it means to play that game. If Shuji is caught, he'll be killed. The absolute best he could hope for is being arrested and charged with the assault of a Britannian police officer. That's life imprisonment for an Eleven, in case you aren't aware. And do you know what happens to Elevens in Britannian prisons?” Gin explained sharply. “This isn't some fun tourist attraction for Britannian brats. People die here every day. Innocent people who are just trying to protect themselves.”

She bit her tongue for a moment, suitably cowed but unable to maintain the silence. “Why don't you fight then?”

“You mean run off to Hokkaido to join the Japanese Army? Why should I give them more cannon fodder? Those bastards don't give a shit about us left behind in the ghettos. They wage their oh-so-righteous war, skirmishing with the Britannians before retreating behind their well protected lines. They don't care that we're the ones who have to pay for it. We're always the ones that the Britannians take their vengeance on.” Gin said heatedly. “The Japanese only protect the Japanese. They don't do fuck all for Elevens like me.”

She blinked in surprise, taken aback by the sudden outburst.

“There you little shits are!” A voice called from behind them.

By some twist of fate, their path seemed to intersect with the one the two cops from earlier had taken and in mere seconds the police were on them. Of course, what else were they to think of a pair of hooded people in an alley, but that they were the ones who had thrown the rocks? Gin pushed her behind him and took an unprovoked blow from a police baton to the arm.

“Idiot.” She hissed. No matter if it would have hurt, he should have just let her get hit. If these bastards harmed so much as a hair on her head, they'd be crucified by their superiors. “Stop it! What the hell to you think you're doing, you god damned brutes!”

Gin took another hit from the baton hard enough to stagger him as the other officer reached around him and grabbed onto her. In the resulting struggled she kicked, scratched and bit the officer before her hood fell off and her hair was revealed. The officers froze in alarm as she glared furiously at them both.

“Fucking ghettos. A god damned breeding pool for criminals.” One of them said before turning on Gin again. “What are you doing with this girl, monkey? You think we wouldn't notice filth like you making off with our women?”

“It's nothing like that.” She protested.

“Quiet, girl.” The officer said absently as he jabbed Gin with the baton. He had the Eleven backed to the wall by now with no chance of escape. The other officer still had a hand on her arm, keeping her in place.

Now, she'd never been what anyone would call calm or docile, but she usually did a good job at remaining civilized. But not now. Not this. They would not land another blow on Gin under the guise of protecting her. She was not someone they could ignore.

“I will not be quiet while you disregard my concerns.” She said loudly. “And I will not sit back while you assault him for nothing. Are you even cops or are you just thugs running around in stolen uniforms?”

The officer with the baton didn't even look at her as he pulled out his badge and sloppily flashed it at her. She also caught a good look at his government ID and the top of one of his credit cards. She smirked inwardly. With only his name she'd be able to find out the identity of his partner later as well. All she'd need to do is make a call to the police commissioner and make some complaints.

“I'm sure this Eleven spun some kind of sob story to get you here, but you can't trust these monkeys. They'll stab you in the back as soon as you let your guard down.” The officer beside her said.

“You're an idiot. I asked him to bring me here.” She said in a deadpan. “Now let him go. He hasn't done anything and you attacked him without provocation.”

“I told you to be quiet. Honestly, you could be a bit more grateful after we saved your life.” The first officer said as he began patting down Gin. For Gin's part, he simply stood there and took whatever they gave him with his hands held up in surrender. He wouldn't fight the Britannians. He didn't see the point in it, apparently. The officer fished a pocket knife out of Gin's jeans and waved it in her face. “Still feeling confident about his intentions, girl?”

“Big deal. I have one too.” She said, fishing her own knife out of her pocket. It had been a gift from Naoto a long time ago, right after the war had begun, so that she could protect herself. It was one of the very few things she'd kept from him and only because it was practical. Hidden away within a little, pink coin purse was a deadly blade.

“This is a Class D restricted weapon. Elevens aren't allowed to carry arms.”

“That's great, do you go around door to door and confiscate their kitchen knives too?” She countered with a snarl. She refused to doubt Gin even for a second. She wouldn't give these bastard cops the satisfaction.

“Listen, girl -”

“No, you listen, Officer Kevin Holt and you,” She said with a wave of her hand at the other officer. “whatever your name is, are you arresting this man? Because I assure you, I will testify at his trial and expose your corruption and abuse of power.”

Gin's eyes widened in surprise or fear – she couldn't tell. “You idiot.” He hissed at her, earning an elbow to the face from the officer.

Officer Holt stared her down, probably hoping to intimidate her. She stared right back, dauntless. “Fine. You pissed me off. You want us to leave you two alone? Don't blame me when you wind up in a gutter somewhere.” He finally huffed, pushing Gin toward her, though she noted that he pocketed his knife.

They stood side by side, watching as the police retreated, no doubt in search of Shuji and his friend who were the real culprits of the stoning. When they were finally out of sight, Gin laughed slightly and slumped down against the wall, gingerly touching the bridge of his nose as though checking to see if it were broken.

“You know, you really have a way with the cops.” He noted.

“Only when you're around.” She countered.

“And you really do possess not even an inkling of self-preservation instinct.” He continued. “You get so wrapped up in your useless ideals that you can't even identify the danger. What did you hope to achieve by threatening to expose them? You're damned lucky that they didn't decide to kill the both of us to cover their tracks. You're family's name won't always be enough to protect you, you know.”

“Who cares, so long as it works. And I'll have you know that I was careful to keep my identity a secret.” She said haughtily before sending him a tentative smile. “How hurt are you? Sorry I couldn't have protected you more.”

“I'm fine. They didn't break anything this time.” Gin shrugged.

“This time?” She asked sharply.

“I said it's fine. Barely even hurts.” He said, though it didn't stop him from wincing when he shifted to get back up to his feet.

“Here.” She said, offering a hand to help pull him up.

“Yeah, thanks. My hero and all that.” He grumbled. “Saved by a girl twice now. You're beginning to hurt my pride you know.”

“It's better than being arrested, isn't it?” She asked.

“Only marginally.” He said, cracking a teasing smile. It was the first lighthearted comment he'd made since discovering her identity.

She chuckled. “Come on, my damsel in distress, I'll buy you an ice pack when we get to the nearest store.”

“Gin! You guys alright?” A voice called behind them. “Shu sent us after you, said the cops were headed in your direction looking for him. How about your girlfri - . . . Are you fucking kidding me? A Britannian, Gin? Really? Just how far are you going to fall, you bastard.”

“Enough, Tamaki.” Gin grumbled as he turned back toward the newcomer. The man speaking looked a little older than Gin, with brown hair and brown eyes. The man next to him was older still, probably almost thirty and just as unmemorable.

“It's not enough.” Tamaki continued. “It's bad enough that you gave up on us to peddle your shitty food to the Britannians, but now you're bringing them here? This is our place. Britannians aren't welcome here.”

“Shut up with your useless drivel about Britannians and non-Britannians.” Kallen suddenly snapped. “Can't you see that he's hurt? He doesn't care.” If there was one thing she hated, it was being talked about by other people while she was standing right there. “If you have a problem with me, address your concerns to the correct party.”

“Tch.” Tamaki snarled before looking back toward Gin and switching to Japanese. “Is this bitch for real? Bad enough you went for a Britannian, but you went for a mouthy Britannian like this.”

Her eyes narrowed into a glare. “I said,” She began, switching into Japanese as well. It had been a few years since she'd been allowed to speak it, but she'd been fluent in it since she was a child. “that if you have a problem with me, you should say so to me, instead of bitching about it to someone else, you dumbass.”

“You need to learn not to talk back when you're at our mercy.” Tamaki snarled, raising his hand to slap her.

The other man closed his hand around Tamaki's wrist before the blow could land, even as Gin took a step forward to shield her again. “What kind of bastard hits a girl, Tamaki? Besides, you wouldn't be able to take her. It's best not to get on the bad side of nobles.”

Her eyes widened in surprise as she stepped back slightly, sending an accusatory glare at Gin. Why the hell had he told that man who she was? It wasn't exactly a secret, but she hadn't expected him to talk about it to others here.

“No need to be afraid, Stadtfeld-sama. And you can stop glaring at Gin-kun. He kept your secret just fine.” The man said with a reassuring smile.

“Nobility?” Tamaki asked loudly before grinning and clapping Gin on the shoulder, earning a pained grimace. “Nice! Nice pay cheque you brought us. How much does a noble girl ransom for these days?” He asked. Without looking, the man next to him smacked him upside the back of the head.

“How do you know who I am?” She demanded, ignoring the idiot for the time being. He was the lesser threat at the moment and under control of this other man who seemed to know about her.

“Honestly, I wasn't completely sure until you spoke Japanese, but you're the spitting image of your brother so I had my suspicions. Naoto and I grew up together.” The man shrugged. “My name is Ohgi Kaname, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

“You're friends with Naoto?” She asked. Honestly, she couldn't see it. Not anymore at least.

“He cut ties with me a few years back, but before that we were like brothers.” Kaname answered. “How is he these days?”

She hesitated for a moment before answering. “Fine, I suppose. We don't have much to do with each other.”

“I see.” Ohgi said before turning on Gin. “How are you? How badly are you hurt?”

“I'm fine, Ohgi-sensei. Just a little bruised.” Gin answered.

“Good.” The older man said, before slapping him lightly upside the head too. “Now, what were you thinking by bringing her here? You know how dangerous this is, both for you and for her. I taught you better than this. Geez, what am I going to do with you brats? All of you just go off and run wild the minute you graduate.”

“It's not his fault.” She protested, kind of hating the way Gin looked like a kicked puppy at the reprimand from Ohgi. “I was the one who made him bring me here.”

“That's not an excuse. What were you going to do if you got her killed here, Gin-kun? Then what? Even if she only got hurt, her family would still have you hung.”

“Sorry, sensei.” Gin said, head bowed in shame.

“Now take her home.” Ohgi ordered. “All the way to her doorstep. Even if it's in the Settlement, if something happens to her, you'll still be the one in trouble. Understand?”

“Yes, sensei.” Gin intoned.

“And Stadtfeld-sama,” Ohgi continued as he gently pulled her hood back up over her hair. “Don't come back here. This isn't a place for you. It's not that I'm discounting your heritage, but I'd rather know that you're safe in the Settlement than mistaken for an enemy on the streets here. Besides, you never know when you'll run into an idiot like Tamaki here who would think to hurt you. So please stay away from here.”

She pursed her lips and bowed her head. It was obvious that this man was a leader of some kind. Everything he said came out with an authoritative edge to it, like a father scolding his children. “I won't come back.” She promised, though she'd already made that decision herself without him having to tell her.

“Good. Now, go home.” Ohgi said before turning away and dragging Tamaki back down the alley the way they'd come.

“Were Shuji and Ryu okay when you saw them?” Gin called after them.

“Yeah, they're crashing at Tamaki's place until the heat dies down.” Ohgi answered. “No need to worry.”

“Probably playing my Xbox, the little bastards.” Tamaki grumbled.

Kallen and Gin walked in silence for a while, her following almost blindly behind him as he guided her way through the ruins of Shinjuku and back toward the Settlement.

“Your brother's name is Naoto. And you speak fluent Japanese.” He finally said, breaking the oppressive silence that had fallen between them. “Just who are you really?”

She hesitated for a moment, then sighed and revealed a secret she hadn't even told her closest friends. “My mother is Kazane Kouzuki.”

“Kouzuki? As in those nobles who were hunted down by the Britannians almost as soon as the war was declared?”

Her mother's family had been hunted to extinction due to their outspoken and very obvious support of the Japanese war effort. But that hadn't really been surprising considering they'd always hated Britannians. Every last man, woman and child of the Kouzuki family had been hunted down and slaughtered within the first weeks of the war. They'd since become a cautionary tale of what happened when you opposed the Britannians.

“In a funny twist of fate, my mother getting disowned for marrying a Britannian saved her life.” She said with a mirthless laugh. “Though it's debatable as to whether or not that was a blessing.”

Personally, she'd have rather been slaughtered with the rest of her family than been forced to play maid for her husband's new wife. But that was an argument she'd had with her mother plenty of times by now, and it was one that she still couldn't win.

Gin sighed. “You should have told me. Sorry. I've been treating you like a spoiled Britannian with a morbid curiosity all day.”

“I am a spoiled Britannian with a morbid curiosity.” She replied leadenly. “I have no right to call myself Japanese. I haven't suffered like you have.”

“It's not like you have to suffer in order to identify yourself as Japanese. You are what you are.” He said. “Besides, it's not like any one of us wouldn't trade places with you in a heartbeat. And even if we did, we'd still call ourselves Japanese. You don't have to feel guilty for living well.”

Well . . . maybe. But that didn't mean she felt good about it either. “Yeah.” She said noncommittally.

He smirked at her. “Cheer up. Next time, we'll definitely do something fun instead of this train wreck.”

“Next time?” She asked, arching her eyebrow at him.

“Well yeah, I still owe you, don't I?” He replied smugly. “You did save my hide again.”

She allowed herself a small smile. For as long as she could remember, her family had strictly regulated the friends she was allowed to spend time with. Whenever she'd made friends with someone beneath her station, they were always quietly _encouraged_ to break off their relationship with her.

She could only imagine how they would react if they ever found out about Gin. But then again, how much longer did she intend to let them rule her life? In a few months she'd be graduated and out from under their influence. She might as well start gaining her independence now.

“Sure. Next time.”

 

***

 

Tohdoh sighed quietly as he massaged the strain away from his eyes. Plan after plan floated through his mind one after the other, each vying for his focus. What was the best way to take back the other islands? What was the best way to drive the Britannians out? What was the best way to deal with Prince Clovis? How should he ensure that they maintained their hold on Hokkaido? How should he ensure that the Prime Minister and Suzaku-sama remained unharmed through all of it? What should he do with Lelouch-sama to make sure that his existence remained secret and safe now that he'd come of age?

He liked the ex-prince. Lelouch-sama was a child modelled after his own heart. He was stoic and analytical, not easily swept away by his emotions. Throughout it all, no matter what happened, he was certain that he would be able to depend on the young man for whatever he needed. That Lelouch-sama happened to be one of the only people he'd ever met that could understand what he was thinking without being told only enamoured him further.

But even so, his primary concern was, and would always be, with the future of Japan. Suzaku-sama and the Prime Minister took precedence, which was precisely why he had called his next meeting. Things seemed to be going as planned, which he contributed primarily to Suzaku-sama's friendly and accepting nature, and to Lelouch-sama's understanding of what he was trying to do. It wasn't often that he interfered in the young heir's life, so Lelouch-sama had probably understood the importance of this.

Suzaku-sama on the other hand took everything at face value. It was a weakness, but one that no one had been able to remedy thus far. The future Prime Minister was almost painfully direct and earnest, favouring overpowering strength over smarts and strategy. He couldn't help but to think that some of the boy's overconfidence was his fault, but he truly had never had a better student than Suzaku-sama. He'd never seen someone able to gain a mastery over their body to the same degree. And that mastery had bred arrogance and, to some degree, disdain for those with less skill. He found the calibre of his bodyguards especially insulting.

A quiet knock at the door of his office brought him back to the issue at hand. “Enter.” He ordered brusquely, welcoming the young private. Private Mura Akatsuki was a rare and valuable find. Part of him was rankled that such an exemplary soldier was going to be put to such use, but again, the future of Japan was his highest priority.

The young man saluted crisply before seating himself in the chair across from Tohdoh at the General's direction. “How are you settling into your new unit, Private?” He asked the soldier.

“Very well, Sir.” Mura answered, face kept calm and composed though it didn't mask the momentary flash of confusion in his gaze. But that was to be expected. A General like himself asking after the well being of a soldier of Mura's rank was more than simply unusual.

“And what do you think of Suzaku-sama?” Tohdoh asked, determined to continue with the interrogation before revealing his purposes.

“He's incredible, Sir.” The soldier said with a slight smile. “I've never seen someone able to pilot like him. I thought I was good, but even I can't completely keep up with him.”

Tohdoh nodded quietly. “I'm aware. I was the one who trained him.”

The Private's gaze widened slightly in surprise. “Ah, then much of his skill must have come from your tutelage, Sir.”

“Perhaps.” He agreed before flipping a page on his desk and drawing the soldier back to the business at hand. Truth be told, the paperwork in front of him had nothing to do with what he had invited Mura here to discuss, but it achieved its goal of keeping the private from becoming too starry eyed. “I heard that you've become . . . acquainted . . . with Lelouch-sama as well.”

Actually, he'd heard that his slothful student had floored the elite soldier in only two hits, but it was to his benefit to keep that disappointment close to his chest for now. Lelouch-sama hadn't lodged a complaint, not that he would, so he hoped that meant that there were no hard feelings between the two.

Mura's expression took on a pinched quality to it, as though he'd stubbed his toe as was trying not to react. “Yes, Sir.”

“And?” He continued. “What was your impression of him?”

Mura hesitated for a moment before proceeding cautiously. “He seems very close with Suzaku-sama.”

An understatement if he'd ever heard one. “Indeed.” Tohdoh agreed before elaborating. “In fact, it could be said that the two are nearly inseparable.”

“Well, Suzaku-sama is easy to get along with, Sir. I think it would be hard for anyone to dislike him, even his half-brother.” Mura said with a slight smile.

Tohdoh quirked his eyebrow slightly before glancing down at his paperwork again. It was true that Suzaku-sama was easy to get along with. It was not true that they were half-brothers. He wondered just where the private had heard that particular rumour, but didn't deign to ask. As long as Lelouch-sama's true identity remained hidden, he didn't care how people explained his presence in the Kururugi house.

“You should be aware that both Suzaku-sama and Lelouch-sama will unhesitatingly throw themselves in the line of fire to protect each other. Either one of them would die for the other if given half the chance.” Tohdoh said. It was something he had repeatedly tried to train out of the boys, but to no avail. They were just too devoted to each other to ever give up on the other.

“I see.” Mura said hesitantly. “Um, Sir? Why do I need to be aware of that?”

This time, Tohdoh reached for the file that did actually pertain to this meeting and slid it across his desk toward the private. “I'm reassigning you as Kururugi Suzaku's bodyguard.”

He didn't miss the momentary flash of disappointment on the young man's face. But that was to be expected. He'd only just been transferred into the most respected unit in the Japanese Army, and was being given a new assignment even before his first engagement. Mura took the folder resignedly, but snapped back to attention nonetheless.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Of course, you will only be required to act as Suzaku-sama's bodyguard during active operations. Frankly, the boy hates having anyone other than Lelouch-sama hanging around him all the time.” Tohdoh explained. “You will have the authority to disregard any order you feel puts Suzaku-sama at unreasonable risk. I'm sure I don't need to tell you this, but Suzaku-sama is going to be the next Prime Minister of Japan. As such, the future of our country is riding on his shoulders. If we were to lose him . . .”

“That won't happen, Sir. Suzaku-sama will be well taken care of.” Mura promised. “Am I responsible for Lelouch-sama's safety as well?”

Tohdoh shook his head, pleased that the soldier had been able to understand the implications of his earlier comment so quickly. “No. Suzaku-sama is your priority above everything else, though it's unlikely that you will ever be faced with that choice. Lelouch-sama is rarely granted permission to take the field. Though should something ever happen to Lelouch-sama, you need to be prepared to rein Suzaku-sama in.”

“I understand, Sir.”

“Very good.” Tohdoh nodded, gesturing toward the door in dismissal. He watched as Mura tucked the folder under his arm and made to leave, before another thought occurred to him. “Suzaku-sama doesn't need to know about this, but should you want to consult someone on the best way to talk him down, I would recommend speaking with Lelouch-sama.”

“I'll take that under advisement, Sir.”

With this, he had hopefully safeguarded the future of Japan.  


	11. Calm Before The Storm

_“Hey, Lelouch-sama!”_

_Lelouch paused, letting the boy that had called out to him catch up. It was one of the progressively less and less rare times that he had to spend away from Suzaku. His brother was in lessons with one of the Prime Minister's closest advisers, learning everything he would need to become the next leader of Japan. It left him alone and, loath as he was to admit it, lonely._

_Over the last four years, he'd grown used to having Suzaku at his side all the time, but now they were being separated more and more often because of Suzaku's duties. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn't help feeling resentful of it. Still, he knew there was no helping it. Suzaku was going to be the next Prime Minister of Japan; he needed to learn everything he could to counter his naturally brash demeanor._

_“Hello, Rikuto-sama.” He greeted with a slight bow._

_Rikuto was the son of some lesser noble family. He was . . . sly, for lack of a better word. Suzaku disliked him, though Lelouch didn't really mind him. They had similar natures. But while he didn't dislike the older boy, he didn't exactly like him either. And that was particularly because Rikuto was always trying to find ways to make Suzaku like him. He dealt with the boy with a kind of ambivalence that hovered on the border of like and dislike._

_“How are you today? Suzaku-sama isn't with you?” Rikuto said with an enquiring arch of his eyebrow._

_“My brother is in private lessons all day.” Lelouch answered, deciding to ignore the pleasantries since he knew they were empty._

_“Ah, that's too bad. I was looking forward to seeing him today. You should both come to my house this weekend. It's my sister's birthday and Father has allowed me to invite some of my friends to keep me from being bored. It would be great if you and Suzaku-sama could come.” Rikuto said with a cheerful smile that almost hid the sly cunning of his gaze._

_“I'll run it past Suzaku.” Lelouch promised, though he knew the answer would invariably be 'no'._

_Rikuto's smiled widened. “That's great. I'll look forward to seeing you guys there. But I have to go. Father and I were just leaving when I saw you and ran to talk to you. Make sure you and Suzaku-sama come, okay?” The boy said with another smile and a wave before turning around and heading back the way he'd come._

_Lelouch kept the pleasant smile on his face until Rikuto had disappeared around the corner before letting the irritated scowl and glower fall onto his face. Above all else, he hated it when people tried to use him to get close to Suzaku. Rikuto was notorious for it, always passing invitations and praise through Lelouch because he knew Suzaku wouldn't even give him the time of day._

_Unfortunately, it was one of the consequences for being so close to Suzaku. People saw him as a filter for getting a better grasp on the heir. Lelouch usually made a point of sabotaging their efforts when Suzaku was forced into accepting their proposals and invitations. This time would be no different. In fact, he wouldn't even mention the invitation to Rikuto’s at all._

 

_*_ **

 

Akatsuki sighed tiredly as he towelled himself off and got dressed. He'd been running drills with Suzaku and the rest of the Eighth all day, honing already sharp skills as they prepared for the next battle. It would only be a matter of time before they were deployed into an active war zone and Suzaku had seemed determined to have everyone in the platoon up to the heir's impeccable standard.

Suzaku was incredible. The more time he spent in the teen's presence, the more impressed he became. In addition to being deadly in the field, Suzaku was also a natural leader. He oozed confidence and charisma, drawing everyone around him in close. He was a born leader.

And somehow, Akatsuki was supposed to be able to rein him in.

It seemed like he was going to have to bite his pride and take the General up on his advice after all. Honestly, going to meet Lelouch was not high on his priority list. He felt a twinge of phantom pain in his shoulder at the memory of the way he'd been so easily taken down by the half-Britannian. It was embarrassing. Humiliating even. Especially because Lelouch was a scrawny little twig of a thing, although he'd realized during their short scuffle that the teen was comprised of straight muscle.

Damn it. He glanced at the clock on the wall. It was mid-afternoon and he had no further duties for the day. Suzaku had been hauled off for another meeting with the Prime Minister, so the likelihood of him being anywhere near Lelouch at the moment was slim. Unless of course, the Britannian had also been called for this meeting.

Well, he wouldn't know if he didn't check.

He let himself out of the changing room, waving his goodbyes to a couple of his comrades on his way out before turning toward the building he knew the Intelligence Division was housed in. His security clearance couldn't even get him past the front gate until he revealed his secondary assignment from the General as Suzaku's bodyguard and that his business was with Lelouch. It was probably more information than he should have given to a guy who worked for a bunch of spies, but he shrugged the discomfort away and followed the directions he'd been given to Lelouch's office.

It was on the third floor and out of the way next to a janitor's closet. It wasn't exactly the corner office prime real estate he'd been expecting for one of the Prime Minister's sons. He frowned and hesitated outside the door, wondering if the guard posed at the gate was laughing it up right now at his gullibility. The door was closed, though he could hear the soft sounds of movement within the office.

Sighing, he raised his fist and knocked on the door. There was a moment of silence before he heard the rustling of papers and the opening of drawers within the office beyond. A moment later a voice called a detached “Come.” to him and he opened the door.

That was indeed Lelouch sitting behind a desk devoid of any incriminating evidence as to what he might have been working on only moments ago. The inside of the office was cramped and small, barely wider than the desk Lelouch was seated at. The walls were covered almost completely with bookshelves that held everything from manuals for the photocopiers to coil-bound notebooks. It looked more like a storage room that someone had stuck a desk into than anything else.

Lelouch's face was neutral and guarded as Akatsuki entered the office and surveyed his surroundings, not giving anything away. He didn't like it. He couldn't get a read off the guy at all.

“Private Mura,” Lelouch said, tone cool and neutral as his expression. “This is unexpected.”

Yeah, he imagined it was.

“I'm sorry to intrude, Lelouch-sama. I wasn't sure the best way to contact you. If you're busy, can I make an appointment for a later time?” He asked, hoping not to aggravate the half-Britannian.

Lelouch waved him toward a seat across from his desk. It was a flimsy plastic thing, but matched the rest of the run down office. He sat in it warily, testing it to make sure it would bear his weight before relaxing into it as much as he dared. He thought he saw a spark of amusement in the cold, violet eyes across the desk from him, but he couldn't be entirely certain.

“So, what is it that you need from me?” Lelouch asked, hands resting cradled together on the top of the desk in front of him.

Akatsuki shifted awkwardly and scratched at the side of his face, trying to figure out the best way to explain this. After all, his assignment as a bodyguard for Suzaku was more or less a secret. Could he trust Lelouch not to tell Suzaku about it? Would confiding in Lelouch about this ruin his friendship and easy camaraderie with Suzaku?

But would General Tohdoh have suggested this course of action if it would have put the rest of his assignment at risk? Probably not. Still it was somewhere to start.

“Um, have you spoken to General Tohdoh recently, Lelouch-sama?” He asked cautiously.

Lelouch frowned. “Every day.” He answered.

Oh. Well then that changed things a little, didn't it? No, not really. “About me at all, by chance?”

“No.” Lelouch answered simply.

“I see.” He said, though he didn't really. Did the General not telling Lelouch about his assignment mean that he couldn't trust the half-Britannian not to tell Suzaku why he was getting so close? Or had it just not come up in conversation? Really, you would expect for the man to at least have given Lelouch a heads up that he might be dropping by for advice. But nothing. Not a word. What was that supposed to mean?

He wasn't exactly sure how to proceed. Lelouch smirked slightly and seemed to take pity on him. “You're Suzaku's new watchdog, aren't you?”

“Bodyguard.” He corrected.

The half-Britannian chuckled. “Well, let's hope you're better in your Knightmare than you are in a fist fight.”

Akatsuki winced. Yeah, he'd been hoping that they'd be able to avoid mentioning his previous ass kicking. No such luck, it seemed.

“General Tohdoh suggested that you might be able to help me.” He said. “Give me some pointers on the best way to control him when he's in a dangerous situation or something.”

Lelouch smirked. “I can wish you luck, but that's all. I'm not going to tell you anything.”

Akatsuki frowned. “Is your brother's safety not worth more than vaunting your superiority over me?” He demanded.

The Britannian's face went from smug and teasing to icy in a heartbeat. Obviously he'd stepped on a landmine. “Suzaku's safety is my highest priority. But I don't know you and I don't trust you no matter how much faith Tohdoh-sensei has put in you. You are asking me to tell you the best way to manipulate my brother and I won't do it. If you ever need to talk him down, call me.” Lelouch said, tossing a business card across the desk toward him. “But I won't help you put a leash around his neck.”

He grit his teeth, fighting to remain polite. “Thank you for your help.” He growled as he picked up the card and stood. He offered a perfunctory bow before turning for the door and barely restrained himself from slamming it behind him.

Damn him. Who the hell did Lelouch think he was anyway? He was just a half-breed bastard that the Prime Minister had felt obligated to take in. And it wasn't like Akatsuki had been trying to 'put a leash' on Suzaku. He'd been trying to be prepared so that he'd be able to protect Suzaku in the worst case scenario.

Fine then. He'd just have to get closer to Suzaku on his own. If they became friends, at least he'd have more leverage over him. Though that might begin pushing the limits of fraternization regulations. Whatever. He'd have to play it by ear for now.

 

***

 

Okay, so Milly had been giving her strange sideways looks all morning. She'd been a little off at school all week too though she hadn't said anything. Which was decidedly un-Milly-like. Milly was always quick to criticize and comment. So it had to be something serious.

Kallen frowned, wondering if she should just outright ask. But it wasn't like they were alone right now anyway. They were currently ferrying around a real estate agent who was trying to find a nice apartment for them to live in next semester.

They stopped in front of a highrise building and stepped out before riding the elevator up to the seventeenth floor. The building was nice, from what Kallen could see. Luxurious and probably out of their price range. But the woman had recognized the Stadtfeld name and kept taking them to these kinds of places despite being told that they were looking for something that they wouldn't have to rely on their parents for the rent.

Because she had to face it—there would be absolutely no help from her parents for this particular endeavour. Once she managed to escape the Stadtfeld estate, they'd insist on her coming back if she couldn't pay her own rent. All of her rent money would come from her scholarships and whatever part time job she picked up after graduation.

The real estate lady selected a key and fiddled with the lock on the door for a few moments before reaching into her pocket and pulling out a few more. When it became apparent that she didn't have the key for this particular door, she frowned.

“It seems they gave me the wrong key. Just let me run downstairs to the office and get the proper one. I'll be back in a few minutes.” The woman said with her best sales smile before retreating back toward the elevator.

Kallen and Milly stood in uncharacteristic silence for a moment before she finally caved. “What's been eating you?” Kallen demanded.

For a moment, Milly didn't answer, then she sighed. “You're not getting involved in anything dangerous, are you?”

Considering that Milly thought just going home every day was dangerous for her, the question took her by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I followed you last weekend.” Milly admit.

“What?!” She exclaimed. Milly had followed her into the ghettos? “That's dangerous. What were you thinking?”

“I'm not stupid, I didn't follow you all the way. And I was thinking you had some secret boyfriend that you wouldn't tell me about. You know me, I'm a big snoop. I just wanted to see who it was you were meeting. So I followed you. I had no idea you were going to go into the ghettos. I thought you were on a date. I was really worried for you, you know?” Milly said heatedly. “But then . . . then I tried to talk myself out of asking you about it by wondering if he wasn't some old friend of yours or a relative and I -”

“Relative?” She asked sharply, feeling her heart drop into her stomach. Milly knew. No, that was impossible. But why would she even suggest that she had relatives in the ghettos unless she already knew, or at least suspected, that Kallen was only half-Britannian. “How long have you known?”

Milly grimaced, then glanced away. “I've always known. From before I even met you. I just said I'm a big snoop and it's on your file in my grandfather's office. At first it pissed me off because you still had titles and I kind of sought you out bully you. I thought you'd be some stuck up bitch so full of herself because your family was nobility, but you weren't. You were so normal and nice that I ended up becoming best friends with you instead.” Milly admit.

Kallen swallowed thickly. “You've always known?”

How many times had she had to brush off or hide her knowledge of Japanese culture in order to fit in with her friends at school? How many times had she allowed herself to follow the status quo so as not to draw attention to herself and her sympathies for the Japanese? How many times had she agonized over whether or not she would lose Milly's friendship if she confided in her when Milly laughed and promised there were no secrets between them?

And Milly had known all along.

“I'm sorry. I should have said so sooner, but I didn't want you to be mad at me for invading your privacy.” Milly apologized. “But now I'm really worried for you. I'm scared you're going to get mixed up in something dangerous.”

“Not all Elevens are rebels.” She snapped in response.

“I know.” Milly said quickly, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “But that guy . . . was he like, your cousin or something? Or your boyfriend? Or what?”

“He's just a friend.” She grumbled begrudgingly. She was still pissed that Milly had been lying to her all this time. It was like a slap in the face. But Milly was just worrying about her, like always, and she couldn't really hate her for that.

Milly was quiet for a moment before clearing her throat awkwardly. “Can I meet him?”

Kallen blinked in surprise. Milly had never exactly been anti-Eleven, but she'd never exactly been Number-friendly either. “Why?” She asked suspiciously.

“I just want to meet him. Make sure he's an okay guy.” Milly answered.

“And what if you don't think he is?” She asked challengingly. If Milly thought she was going to take over where her parents left off in dictating who she could associate with, she was going to be in for a rude awakening.

Milly shrugged. “I'll probably nag you and annoy you for a while about it, and then I'll hunt him down if he ever hurts you.” She promised, flicking a stray blond tress away from her face.

Kallen smirked, surprised at how normal everything seemed to be despite her greatest secret having been exposed. Well, she supposed it had been exposed a long time ago and she just hadn't known it. Still, Milly was sure to have some kind of opinion on it.

She shifted self-consciously and glanced away, “Hey, you're really okay with . . . what I am? With me being half-Japanese?”

“Of course.” Milly said, nudging against her shoulder. “After all, it doesn't change anything. You're still you.”

The elevator dinged down the hall, marking the return of the real estate agent and they both fell silent. Side by side, like they had always been. Nothing had changed.

“Okay, let's hope they gave us the right key this time, hmm?” The real estate lady said with another smarmy smile.

It turned out they had and they were soon shown into the suite. It was luxurious with a great view and definitely out of their price range. She didn't even pay much attention to it, instead more focused on Milly, who had seemed to cheer up immensely after their conversation, but who also kept shooting her expectant glances.

Eventually, she caved. “Yeah, fine.” She grumbled as they halfheartedly checked out the master bathroom. “Next time I go to see him, I'll bring you along.”

Milly smirked. “Great. I'll hold you to that.”

 

**

 

Amos bowed and smiled and served like he'd been doing it all his life. It was almost second nature already, not that he let himself relax at all. His eyes were always sharp; his ears always open for whispers and gossip. But he couldn't help but feel like he'd hit a wall.

There was nothing new. No new insights on Gottwald. The first few days after Lelouch had made contact with the man, his behaviour had been noticeably erratic. Well, erratic wasn't exactly the word he was looking for. He supposed distressed sounded better. Whatever Lelouch had hit the man with, it must have hit him hard.

Either that, or it was just the regular aftermath of the Empress' death anniversary. Though, according to the rest of the staff, the lord's behaviour was uncharacteristic even for this time of the year. Therefore, he was tending to attribute the changes to whatever Lelouch had done to the man. Though exactly what kind of leverage Lelouch could possibly have over a man as powerful as Gottwald, he had no idea.

Gottwald was off duty today. It was the first time the man hadn't gone to work since he'd started working there and he found it both enlightening and disconcerting. He'd never seen Gottwald outside of his regular routine before which made him a little anxious as to whether the man would be more observant of him or not. But that was a double edged sword because it also gave him the chance to observe Gottwald more than usual as well.

“Ah, Dirk, can you run down to the gate for me, please? A courier just dropped off a message for the Master, but I've got my hands full with the laundry at the moment.” Lizzette pleaded, an overstuffed laundry basket balanced precariously beneath each arm.

“Of course. But do you need any help with those? I can take one of them from you. They look heavy.” He offered.

“No, no, I'm fine. I do this all the time. Just go greet the courier.” She said and made a move as if she'd have liked to have waved him away before remembered her burden.

“Alright.” He said, slipping on his jacket hanging near the servant's entrance before walking down the driveway.

The courier waiting at the gate was a teenage boy, dressed in a stiff suit with a scarf wrapped around his neck. He was obviously not a commercial courier. He greeted Amos with a polite smile and handed over a small envelope with a familiar seal stamped on the back.

“For the Margrave, please.” The boy said. “And my Master apologizes for the short notice. He said he would understand if Lord Gottwald was unable to attend.”

“Of course. I will pass along Lord Stadtfeld's sentiments.” He said. The seal on the envelope boasted a coat of arms with a rearing stag on it. It was an insignia he'd seen frequently while Naoto had been training him.

“Thank you very much.” The courier said, giving a half bow before taking a step back, task completed.

“Yes, and thank you for bringing this. Good day.” He replied before turning back toward the house.

He surreptitiously examined the envelope in his grasp. Aside from the seal and the Margrave's name scrawled across the front in Naoto's cursive, there were no hints as to what it might contain. Ostensibly, it was an invitation to something, though to what Amos couldn't be sure. Still, if it was coming from Naoto, it probably had something to do with Lelouch and their mission.

He found Gottwald in his home office. He was reading some documents with a frown on his face. “This just came for you from the Stadtfelds, Master. Lord Nathan sends his apologies for the late invitation and understands if you are unable to attend.” He said, handing the envelope over.

Gottwald took it and delicately slipped it open with his letter opener, the blade probably sharp enough to use as a weapon. Amos was desperately curious about the contents of the envelope, but didn't have an excuse to linger.

“If that will be all, Master, I will take my leave.” He said, bowing from the waist before turning for the door as Gottwald perused the contents of the letter.

“Wait.” The man ordered, still not looking up from the letter.

Amos paused and turned back, standing quietly in attendance as Gottwald flicked the letter uninterestedly onto the desk and pinned him with his cold, scrutinizing gaze. For the first time since accepting this mission, he felt true fear.

“You used to work for Lord Nathan Stadtfeld, didn't you?” Gottwald asked.

“Yes, Master.” He nodded.

“Tell me about him.”

Amos shifted awkwardly. It was an order, not a request, but he wasn't sure how to fulfil it. “Ah, out of professional courtesy, I would rather not, Master.”

There. And now it would seem that he would protect Gottwald's secrets too even after his employment with him. The man ought to be happy with that.

“You work for me now. I'm the only one you need to be loyal to. If you can't accept that, then you have no place here.” Gottwald said darkly.

Amos swallowed nervously. “Ah, well, when you put it like that, of course you are right, Master. What would you like to know about Lord Nathan?”

The Margrave smirked. “Everything.”

Great. He hadn't prepared for this kind of situation. He was just going to have to make things up as he went along and hope he could get the details to Naoto before Gottwald called him on it. Luckily for him, he could at least claim a modicum of ignorance because his cover story had him employed at a vacation property that wouldn't have been used by the family full time.

 

***

 

Jeremiah casually straightened his tie before stepping out of his car, pockets full of cash and an expensive bottle of scotch in hand. It was a gentleman's drink, and he'd been invited to a gentleman's evening of gambling and drinking. Normally, he would have passed up such an invitation, but Nathan Stadtfeld intrigued him. The man was only twenty four and yet had already achieved so much.

Though, he supposed Lord Nathan had been groomed for his current position all his life. He'd probably been learning management skills and financial accounting all throughout high school. It was interesting, though, that essentially all he actually knew of the man was what he'd picked up at the prince's New Year’s party. That was, that Nathan was charismatic and sarcastic on the surface and only slightly more serious underneath. Despite that, he managed one of the biggest companies in Area Eleven.

He couldn't help but think that there was more to the puzzle. Like if he got closer, he might find something worthwhile. It was nothing more than a gut instinct, but his gut was rarely wrong. So he had decided to accept the invitation.

Nathan's apartment was in the penthouse suite of a luxurious downtown highrise. He had to have the security officer in the foyer use his key in the elevator just to get up there. He examined his surroundings lazily on the way up. The building was definitely something only the vastly successful could afford even on the lower floors. The penthouse was sure to be in a league of its own.

When the elevator opened, he was faced with a small open area and a single door. He was about to knock when the door opened and a young woman curtsied to him. “Lord Gottwald, welcome to my Master's home. Please come in. May I take your jacket?” She greeted.

He stepped inside and nodded, allowing her to move behind him and slip the jacket from his shoulders before handing off his gift of scotch to her as well. “Master Nathan and his other guests are in the drawing room. Please follow me.”

Just as he'd expected, Nathan's apartment was the very epitome of modern luxury. Every room boasted sleek lines and open surfaces with bold splashes of colour. It was exactly what you'd expect of a well to do young man. He was led through the open concept living room and down a corridor, where he could hear music and boisterous voices coming from. Though he wasn't late, it appeared as though they had already started.

“Master, Lord Gottwald has arrived.” The servant in front of him said with another curtsey as she presented him to the room.

“Lord Jeremiah!” Nathan said with a welcome smile. “Come, come, join us!”

Nathan was seated around a gaming table with three other young men. He recognized their faces from high society events, though he couldn't claim to actually know any of them. The flush on half of their cheeks suggested that the half completed drinks on the table in front of them were not the first they'd had that evening.

“Of course. Thank you for inviting me, Lord Nathan.” He said politely as he moved toward the chair that had been left open on his host's right.

“Of course. I figured we'd hit it off at the Viceroy's New Year’s party. We should become good friends!” Nathan said teasingly before glancing back toward the servant waiting to attend to them. “Sophie, Lord Jeremiah is far too sober for the current situation. He's going to win all of our money if we let him play like this. Please bring him a drink.”

“Of course, Master. Lord Gottwald, do you have a preference? Perhaps some of the scotch you brought with you?” She suggested.

“You brought me scotch?” Nathan asked in delighted surprise. “How did you know it's my favourite? Sophie, bring me some of that too.”

“Me as well.” One of the other men at the table said with a wave.

“Oh hell, in that case, just bring the whole bottle, Sophie. Unless, of course, Lord Jeremiah would prefer something else?” Nathan asked.

He smiled. “Scotch is fine.” He answered graciously. Obviously, Dirk had been correct in his suggestion of the gift. Which was great because at least it meant the man had been slightly useful. The rest of his interrogation of the man had come up a bust.

“Of course, Masters. I'll be right back.” The servant said with another curtsey before excusing herself.

“Right, introductions are in order.” Nathan said quickly, gesturing to the man sitting on his other side. “This is Lord Liam Hargreave, the son of Earl Hargreave.” The blonde man nodded in greeting. The Hargreaves were heavily involved with the banks of the Empire, though they had recently relocated to Area Eleven for reasons unknown.

“Next to him is Thomas Wright, of _the_ Wrights.” Nathan continued, gesturing to the dark haired man next to Hargreave. Whenever someone referred to ' _the_ Wrights' there was only ever one family that they were talking about. The Wrights had once been the leaders of an organized crime syndicate that stretched Empire-wide. In recent years, they had turned to more legal business ventures, though their history and reputation still ensured that they were feared and given the respect of those they dealt with.

“A pleasure to meet you.” Thomas said with a nod.

“And beside him, on your right, is Viscount Scott Adeney.” Nathan continued. The Adeneys were a very old family from the homeland that could trace their heritage back to the early middle ages. They had remained prosperous and influential throughout all of those centuries and had had some of the oldest holdings in the world until Britannia had been forced to flee Napoleon's armies.

The Viscount gave him a sideways nod in greeting.

“And this, my esteemed guests, is Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald of the Viceroy's Royal Guard.” Nathan finished with a flourish.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintances.” He said, nodding his head toward the others.

The servant returned a second later with a tray bearing the bottle of scotch, ice and fresh glasses. She served them all, then left the bottle and ice on a side table before excusing herself again and leaving them be.

Nathan raised his glass, “To us and our time, the next big movers and shakers.”

“Hear hear!” Liam said, banging his fist on the table.

All around the table, glasses raised in agreement. Jeremiah smirked and raised his as well before taking a sip. The scotch burned down his throat, warming him from the inside out. The potent smell reminded him briefly of his late night encounter with Prince Lelouch's lookalike, but he pushed the thoughts out of his mind. He was in company and he couldn't afford to be distracted.

“Ah, god damn that is good scotch.” Nathan said as he set down his glass.

“It was recommended by one of your former employees that I hired.” He revealed with a shrug.

“Oh?” Nathan asked interestedly. “One from the vacation villa? Have you had any problems with them?”

“Not thus far. You seem rather interested in him.” He said suspiciously. In all honesty, he had no complaints about Dirk, but if there was something he ought to know about, Nathan would be the one to ask.

“Of course I'm interested. If he slacks off and makes a fool of himself, it reflects badly on me, right?” Nathan said. “Besides, what if he tells you embarrassing things about me and the women I brought to the villa? He hasn't, right?”

Nathan was blushing by this point, obviously uninhibited by the alcohol he'd consumed. “Of course not, Lord Nathan. That would be embarrassing for me as well.”

“Hey, Nathan, I came here to steal your money, not to gossip like a girl.” Thomas said.

“As if you need it.” Nathan grumbled before reaching for the deck of cards. “So, what are we playing then?”

“Poker.”

“Black Jack.”

“Old Maid.”

Jeremiah paused at the last and glanced to the Viscount beside him who was watching Nathan with a teasing smile after making such a suggestion.

“It's about all you're good for with the state you're in, Nathan. Matching pairs.” Thomas added, joining in with Scott's teasing.

Nathan rolled his eyes at the taunt and began expertly shuffling the cards. “Oh, I'll show you. I'm going to win your precious car off of you tonight. See you try to impress your girlfriend with it after that, hmm? Maybe she'll go for me instead.”

“You wish.” Thomas countered. “Just deal the damned cards.”

“Poker it is then!” Nathan declared as he began dealing the cards.

Jeremiah took another tentative sip of his drink, determined not to drink himself into the same state as his host. It was bound to be an interesting and informative evening, so he'd hate to miss it.

 

***

 

Lelouch tapped his fingers on the desk in front of him in agitation. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even so much as a whisper of Lord Platt's meeting with the Viceroy had come to light. He knew the meeting had taken place, he knew who had been involved, but he had no idea what they had discussed. He could guess, but he had no way to find out for sure.

He toyed with the idea of using Gottwald to figure out what had been said. The man had been there as Clovis' 'bodyguard' and would undoubtedly know what had been discussed, but he wasn't confident that he could get the information out of the man. At least, not without raising suspicion. After all, the Prince Lelouch that man had met outside the Fox Hunt was a runaway struggling to survive on his own. That Prince Lelouch would have no idea that a meeting between Clovis and Lord Platt had taken place behind the closed doors of the Viceroy's Palace. It would ruin everything. And learning what had been discussed at that meeting was only a secondary objective in the larger mission of getting closer to Gottwald in the first place.

Maybe Naoto could get it out of the man, but they weren't at a stage yet that Gottwald would confide in him. In fact, he wasn't even sure if Gottwald had taken Naoto up on his invitation tonight. He'd ordered his agent to befriend the man, but it could be months before Gottwald actually got to point that he thought he could trust Naoto. By which point in time, it would already be too late to ask this question.

His other option was more subversive and would undoubtedly lead to civilian casualties in the ghettos. Though that result would likely be inevitable regardless of what he chose to do. When it came to light just what Platt and the others were planning, the Japanese would obviously be outraged. He could capitalize on that, but to instigate it?

He leaned back in his chair and heaved a heavy sigh.

He was running out of time. According to his sources, Gottwald still hadn't voiced his opinion on the registration laws. He needed to act before the man did. A complete reversal of his stance would look too suspicious.

Damn.

He pushed himself out of his chair and left his office, locking the door behind him. It was already this late and Naoto's still hadn't called. Knowing his agent, he would be cavorting with the enemy until the wee hours of the morning and wouldn't bother calling until closer to midday tomorrow. Agonizing over something he couldn't change at the moment served no purpose.

He made his way through empty corridors, footsteps echoing in his wake. This part of the building was abandoned at this hour, quiet as a tomb as opposed to during the day when the muted bustle of clandestine meetings could be heard from behind closed doors. Somehow, he always preferred it at night.

He snapped out of his thoughts as the elevator dinged at the end of the hall. His eyes narrowed and his body tensed instantly. There was no reason for anyone to be coming here at this hour. He slipped back into an alcove that hosted an oversized potted plant and reached for his gun, focusing on anything that might give the intruder away.

Steady, even footsteps began down the hall, not even trying to hide themselves. Obviously, the intruder didn't think anyone would be here at this hour. He let out a slow breath as they drew closer, relaxing his muscles and preparing to move.

The next second, the intruder was passing the alcove and Lelouch was moving, stepping out behind the person and levelling his gun at the back of their head. Or he would have if the gun hadn't been knocked out of his hand by a rapid open-handed chop which was followed up by a dizzying roundhouse kick that sent him sprawling.

He recovered quickly, rolling out of the way of the following stomp that would have probably broken bones. He had a knife in hand by the time he regained his feet. Not that he would use it.

It was Suzaku, standing in the hall across from him, breathing quickly with the adrenaline rush of their quick scuffle. His brother laughed breathlessly before dropping out of his offensive stance and sending him a sheepish smile.

“Ha ha, I was just coming to get you, Lelouch.” Suzaku said awkwardly.

Lelouch rolled his eyes and put his knife away before going to collect his gun from behind the potted plant he'd been hiding with. “Why? Am I needed for something?”

“Not really. Just that Dad came by and found out that you hadn't come home yet. He was worried, so I said I'd come and get you.” Suzaku shrugged. It wasn't the first time this had happened, though usually the janitor tended to chase him out before Suzaku came to get him. “You scared the crap out of me though. You're lucky you managed to dodge me stomping on your chest, because I wasn't holding back at all.”

“Yeah, but dodging your attacks is something I'm good at.” Lelouch said with a smile, turning toward the elevator. “And you know I have a phone, right? There was no need to come here personally.”

“I didn't want to wake you up if you'd fallen asleep in your office.”

“I've never fallen asleep in my office. And even if I had, you'd have been waking me up either way.” Lelouch countered with an aggravated sigh. “Anyway, are you up for going out for food? I haven't eaten yet.”

“I was just going to ask you that.” Suzaku laughed. “I have an early morning tomorrow though, so we can't take too long.”

“You're the one who always takes forever to eat.” He said as he called the elevator.

“True.” Suzaku agreed. “So where do you want to eat?”

“Doesn't matter.”

“Right, because you eat like a freaking bird. I want ramen.”

“Sounds good.” Lelouch agreed easily before letting Suzaku lead the conversation.

He still had no idea what to do with the Gottwald situation. He needed the registration laws existence to be common knowledge before he could approach the man again. He just wasn't sure he was willing to pay the price of making the laws public knowledge himself. Still, even if it wasn't a step he wanted to take, he was running out of other options. He'd have to decide how he wanted to proceed by tomorrow, or the next day at the very latest.


	12. Cumulus

 

 

 

_Kallen shifted awkwardly, leaning against the wall outside the cafeteria as she sipped on her juice. Damn it. Why had her parents made her go to this school? She should have been home tutored like Naoto. Then she wouldn't have to deal with all of this gawking. Honestly! Nobility weren't a different species than regular humans. She didn't see the reason why all of her new classmates kept staring at her and whispering to each other._

_They'd all gone to the same middle schools together. She'd been tutored at home until now – until her stepmother was confident that she wouldn't give away her tainted heritage at the first opportunity she got. All in all, this was a pretty shitty first day of school even if Ashford Academy was supposed to be the preeminent school in Japan._

_She sighed and kept her head down, avoiding eye contact with the idiots who kept watching her. Could she really do this for seven hours a day, every day? She wasn't exactly the most sociable creature around; no doubt another reason why Lady Stadtfeld had felt the need to boot her from her home lessons._

_Besides, the skirt was far too short. She felt like her ass was hanging out and she was uncomfortable with showing this much leg every day. But the other option was a knee length, shapeless thing that made it look like she was wearing a yellow sack around her waist. If she was to entertain any hope of fitting in here, she had to stick with the short skirt and the uncomfortable breeze._

_Nevertheless, she smoothed her hand down over her skirt for the umpteenth time already that day, ensuring that her panties were, in fact, not visible to the population at large and the real reason why everyone was staring at her. Seriously, she was developing a twitch about it._

_“You're Kallen Stadtfeld, aren't you? The daughter of Earl Stadtfeld, right?” A voice interrupted her paranoid musing._

_She sighed inwardly and pasted on her most docile and charming smile. “Yes, that's correct.” She answered simply as she gave the newest gossip a once over. She was talland blonde, and the books protruding from her bag suggested that she was in the year ahead of Kallen. “It’s nice to meet you . . .?”_

_“I'm Milly Ashford.” The girl said with a hint of indignity in her tone, as if Kallen should already have known who she was and been grateful that she was even taking the time out of her schedule to talk to her. It figured. Of course the principal's granddaughter would reign over this place like a queen. And of course she'd have been sent to talk to Ashford Academy's newest curiosity._

_“It's nice to finally meet you, Milly. I've been looking forward to coming here for years. I was a little nervous since I've only been home schooled before, but it's been really fun so far.” She lied. “I hope we can become good friends.”_

_There. Even Lady Stadtfeld would have to be impressed with her diplomacy. Even though everything in the previous statement was a lie, she'd managed to deliver it with enough charm and composure that no one would be able to tell._

_Milly's smile widened a little more, “Nice attempt, but no one I’ve ever met has been able to lie to my face. So why don't you tell me how you really feel?”_

_No way. She'd been caught that easily? Ugh, she was going to have to practice her deception a little more. Her parents seemed to think that it was a necessary life skill._

_Oh well, then. If Milly wanted the truth, the truth she would get. “I hate it. Everyone stares at me like I'm a freaking ape in a cage. It's driving me up the wall. And the desks are uncomfortable to sit in, but I could learn to deal with them if my classmates staring at me didn't make me keep checking that my undies aren't showing.”_

_Milly's smile faltered and Kallen snorted in amusement – which her stepmother would no doubt have been appalled to hear. It was Ashford's own fault. She'd asked how Kallen really felt, and Kallen hadn't felt like censoring herself if she was going to be called on her lies._

_Then Milly threw her head back and laughed, like it was the funniest thing she'd heard all year. “We should become good friends, you and I. The seats are freakishly uncomfortable. No matter how much I complain to Grandfather, he won't have them upholstered. And don't worry about the staring. I'll get them to lay off, alright?”_

_However much power Milly thought she had, Kallen doubted it was enough to curb natural human curiosity. So she was astonished the next class when no one looked at her unless they had to speak to her directly. She and Milly had been the best of friends ever since._

****

***

****

Kallen was pretty sure that this was a terrible idea. Milly sat beside her on the train, texting Shirley on her phone so that their friend didn't feel ostracized because she'd been told that she couldn't come with them today. It wasn't that Kallen was ashamed of her heritage and what she was, or of Gin, but she wasn't quite sure if she was ready to have all of her friends know yet. Besides, the less people who knew meant the less chance that it would get back to her stepmother that her secret was out. When she was free and clear of her parents grasp she'd tell all of her friends.

Hell, she'd create the biggest scandal she could just to ruin them. It would be great. About time she make them hurt instead of the other way around.

But Milly and Gin? She kept trying to picture each possible scenario for how this meeting could play out, but the possibilities kept growing worse and worse in her mind. The latest scenario involved a full contact assault, either by Milly or Gin (she could picture it either way), leading to all of their arrests. Given recent events, she figured a run in with the cops was par for the course.

She sighed, knowing by now that there was nothing for it. She was just going to have to play it by ear and hope for the best. Or at least she could hope for anything better than the worst. She tugged gently on Milly’s sleeve as she stood and began moving through the press of afternoon commuters for the door. Milly grabbed her arm so they wouldn’t get separated, and so Kallen could help pull her through the crowd, as the train came to a stop and the doors slid open.

They made their way up into the plaza, the sun shining brightly overhead with the steady advance of spring. She squinted and looked around, finding Gin leaning up against the statue of the Emperor just like he had been last time. He was earning just as many suspicious glances as last time too.

He caught sight of her and was halfway through a wave before he noticed Milly at her side and aborted the motion. Instead, he turned it into a scratch of his neck and watched warily as she continued to approach him. She waved back, hopefully silently conveying the message that everything was fine.

“Gin.” She greeted with a reassuring smile.

“Kallen . . . ah, I mean,  . . . my la-”

“Don’t finish that.” She cut him off before he could throw on an honorific and a bow. “This is my friend Milly. She wanted to meet you.”

Gin glanced hesitantly between Milly and Kallen for a moment before turning to the blond and bowing slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

“Ooooh, he has manners!” Milly said, delighted, while Kallen rolled her eyes.

“Milly isn’t nobility.” Kallen said, just to burst her friend’s bubble.

Milly sent her a scathing glare and crossed her arms over her chest before pouting and looking away. “I used to be.”

“Yeah yeah, anyway, this is my super snoopy best friend. She followed us to the edge of the ghettos last time, so she knew about you and made a big fuss about meeting you.” She explained with a sigh.

“Ah . . . um. . .” Gin was apparently at a loss for words.

Not that Milly really seemed all that interested in what he had to say. The blonde put her hands on her hips as she scrutinized him critically, circling slowly like prey about to strike. Gin stood stock still as if afraid to move.

“Well, at least he’s not bad looking. I couldn’t tell from the distance last time, but it seems he’s got a few good points. He’s tall, fit, andkind of cute.” Milly said matter-of-factly.

Kallen rolled her eyes and willed herself not to blush as brightly as her hair, a feat Gin wasn’t as successful at. She knew specifically that Milly was just trying to get a reaction out of her in revenge for dousing the impression that she was nobility. But at the same time, and while she and Gin weren’t at all romantically involved, she had noticed. She had kind of always been a sucker for Japanese boys.

“You’re supposed to be determining whether or not you think he’s going to axe murder me the moment you turn your back.” She said in a deadpan.

“True.” Milly said without turning her attention away, then she caught Gin’s gaze and stepped in close. “You hurt Kallen and I promise you the police will be the least of your worries. Understand? The Ashfords might not be nobility any longer, but we still have a lot of sway.”

“Milly!” Kallen reprimanded, dragging her friend away by the arm.

“I understand completely. It’s not a problem.” Gin said at the same time.

Milly shook herself free before nodding resolutely. “Good. Then my work here is done. Enjoy your date.”

“It’s not a date.” Kallen grumbled under her breath, for what had to be the hundredth time, but Milly was already turning away back toward the train station.

Kallen watched her go, surprised that Milly had given up so easily after dishing out her two cents. She’d been fully expecting Milly to tag along the entire time. She’d been prepared for it, actually. She’d also been prepared to offer a plethora of apologies to Gin for subjecting him to Milly’s antics all afternoon. She supposed some of them were still valid.

“I’m so sorry.” She said, turning back to Gin who was grinning almost smugly. “She’s not a bad person, but she likes to get involved in everyone’s lives and it’s hard to shut her out without it turning into a big fight. She’s overbearing, and eccentric, and often times annoying, but she’s my best friend and -”

“It’s fine.” He said, cutting her off. “I won’t say it was the most pleasant meeting since she threatened death and dismemberment, but you weren’t ashamed to introduce someone like me to your friends, so everything’s fine.”

She sighed in relief. “And sorry about the axe murderer comment.” She added, because that was kind of mean now that she thought about it.

“I forgive you.” Gin replied. “Now, do you want ramen or not?”

She blinked uncomprehendingly. “Ramen?”

He stared back at her. “Noodles in broth . . . have you had it before?”

“Yeah, I just . . . what, you’re going to make it for me?” She asked.

He snorted. “No. I know a place.”

“In the Settlement?” She asked, confused. She couldn’t think of anywhere outside of the ghettos that could get away with openly selling such a traditionally Japanese food, and she wasn’t exactly dressed for another foray into the ghettos since she was still in her school uniform.

“Barely, but yes. So you want it? Or do you want to go get something else?”

“We’re getting ramen.” She said firmly. Now that she knew it was an option, her heart was firmly set on it. She hadn’t had it since she was a kid, since before the war started. Her mother had taken her and Naoto out for ramen as a treat a few times even though the cook at the house could have made it for them easily.

They caught a train heading toward the peripheral of the Settlement by the Shibuya ghetto and walked to an apartment building with scrawled Japanse ‘graffiti’ serving as a sign. To the uninformed Britannian, it would look like a bunch of Japanese brats got a hold of some spray paint and vandalized the building with gang tags or slurs. In reality, it said ‘Mai’s Restaurant Downstairs’ in bold black, yellow, and blue characters across the facade of the building, even blacking out some of the windows with paint.

She laughed quietly at the ruse as Gin headed directly for the door. It was an illegal business, but the building had probably been condemned so the Britannians probably wouldn’t be snooping around the place too much. If anything, it would look like a bunch of Japanese squatters had taken up residence and with it being within spitting distance of the official boundary between the Britannian Settlement and the ghettos, they probably wouldn’t try to reclaim it any time soon.

“Come on.” Gin called to her. “Best ramen you’ve ever had, I promise.”

“I’m not exactly a ramen connoisseur.” She replied.

“Ooh, big words. Trying to confuse the poor little Eleven so you feel more confident?” He asked.

“That not what I -”

“It was a joke, Kallen. Besides, I know what connoisseur means.” He interrupted, holding the door open for her.

She hesitated a moment on the threshold. “You sure it’s okay if I go in? It won’t start trouble?”

“It’ll be fine as long as you can pay. I doubt that’s a problem for you.” He replied, gesturing for her to step in. She did so and he closed the door behind her, leaving them in a dimly lit corridor. “This way.”

He led her to an emergency stairwell and down into the basement, which was surprisingly not as dingy or questionable as she’d been first expecting. It was brightly lit, open, and decorated with a plethora of Japanese knick knacks ranging from Buddha statues to Hello Kitty memorabilia that seemed to have been all crammed into the same space to enforce the point that this was a Japanese restaurant. There were a dozen small, round tables littered throughout the area, covered in table clothes of varying colours.

Half of the tables were in use; the occupants a mixture of middle aged and gruff-looking to young people the same age as them. A curtain made from what looked like repurposed bed sheets hung along the back of the room, presumably cordoning off the kitchen from the dining area. To the left of the stairwell where they’d come in stood a middle aged woman in an apron, her graying hair pulled back into a tight bun that didn’t even allow wisps to escape.

“Gin-chan!” The woman said as soon as he made it through the threshold. “About time you came! I was beginning to think you’d forgotten all about us.” She chided in Japanese.

“Oba-san.” Gin greeted with a smile, allowing the woman to drag him into a hug.

“You spend so much time in that stall of yours. Everyday you go back and forth between Shinjuku and the Settlement, but you never come to visit us. How are your mother and brother? Shu-chan still as wild as ever or as he gotten some common sense yet? And what about -” The woman paused mid-inquisition when her gaze landed on Kallen and went stock still and silent, lips pressing together into a thin line.

It was a like a switch had been flipped. One moment the woman had been all happy smiles and teasing questions, the next she was cold, silent and tense. Kallen could feel the blatant hostility in the gaze and took a step back. She could leave. She didn’t want to make trouble, especially not for people who had to deal with Britannian bullshit every day.

“This is Kallen-chan. She’s half-Japanese. Kind of a double agent, she’s saved my life from the Brits a few times.” Gin said as he placed a hand in the small of her back and gently pushed her forward so that she wasn’t hiding behind him. “This is my aunt, Kusunoki Mai.”

She bowed politely. “Nice to meet you, Kusunoki-san.” She said in her rusty Japanese.

And then it was like the woman had never gone cold at all. The smile was back along with the friendly atmosphere as the woman grabbed her hand and squeezed. “Just call me Oba-san, child. Any friend of Gin-chan’s is welcome here. I bet you two are hungry. I’ll get you some food. Take a seat wherever you like.”

Gin chuckled under his breath as the woman rushed off to see to their meals, even though they hadn’t actually ordered anything yet. “Expect a feast.” He sighed before leading her to the table furthest away from the rest of the restaurant’s patrons.

The room wasn’t that big and Mai’s voice hadn’t exactly been quiet. As a result, everyone in the restaurant had played witness to their conversation and most of them were now regarding her with open curiosity. It was like her first day at school all over again. She ducked her head and followed Gin to the table, strategically seating herself so that he blocked her from the sight of most of the rest of the patrons.

“Nervous?” He asked.

“More awkward.” She answered as she glanced around the room. “I feel like I’m some kind of rare exhibit. ‘The Britannian Who Cares’  here for a limited time only.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think this place would be so busy mid-week. I kind of expected us to have the place to ourselves or I wouldn’t have come.” Gin apologized.

“It’s fine. I’m used to it, just not from this end. Not sure what the expectation is.”

Gin frowned in confusion. “You mean Britannians often stare at you like this? They know you’re half-Japanese?”

She laughed quietly. “No. Trust me, if people knew I was half-Japanese, you’d have heard about it. My family’s enemies would have a field day with it. But with the whole nobility thing, a lot of people seem to think that makes me more than human.” She paused, frowning slightly. “Or sometimes less than human.”

She’d met more than her fair share of people who thought that the nobility were parasites of society, leeching off of the successes of their predecessors. Of course, most of those people were jealous members of the upper class who didn’t have titles, but who often had more influence than many of the nobility.

“Either way, it makes for a lot of staring.” She shrugged.

“Must be tough.” Gin said.

Kallen stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment before laughing. “Tough? Not at all. I wasn’t trying to complain.”

The very fact that Gin, who put his life on the line every day just to eke out a living in a society that would largely love nothing more than to have him disappear, was offering her sympathy was laughable. Her problems were so minor by comparison that they didn’t even bear mentioning.

Gin shrugged. “I would have thought it would be.”

“Compared to what the Japanese go through every day?” She asked.

“Yeah. I mean, no one expects anything from us. If we stay quiet and out of sight, most Britannians are content to forget that we exist. But you must have tons of expectations heaped up on your shoulders, so even if you were to stay quiet and out of sight, people would still notice you. Hell, they’d actively go looking for you, right? It has to be hard having to be something at all times, especially for you since you have this dichotomy going on between the Britannian and Japanese halves of your life.”

Kallen stared at him uncomprehendingly for a moment.

He sighed in annoyance. “Don’t look at me like that. Just because I’m Japanese, doesn’t mean I’m stupid.”

“I never thought you were!” She protested. “It’s just that that was unexpectedly profound.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course it was. I’m a hotdog vendor.” He paused, frowning at a Buddha statue on a shelf next to the table. “If we weren’t at war, or if Elevens were accepted into educational institutions, I’d be working my way toward a law degree right now. But as it is, I guess I’m lucky that I was even able to finish high school.”

“Where did you go to high school?” She asked curiously. As far as she was aware, none of the high schools would accept non-Britannian students.

He laughed mirthlessly. “Well, I don’t know if I actually graduated ‘high school’ per se. I doubt the curriculum would hold up or transfer to any of the schools in the Settlements or in Hokkaido. But after the war started, after Japan lost Tokyo and then all of Honshu, I guess a lot of parents were waiting for the chance to be able to send their kids back to school. But a school for Elevens was never built or even looked like it would ever be in the works. Eventually, a bunch of local teachers realized what it was they were trying to do. The Britannians were trying to keep us stupid so we’d be complacent and easy to manage.

“So a bunch of teachers got together and decided they weren’t about to let that happen. They’d teach from their homes in the evenings, after they finished working at the docks or whatever other job they managed to snag to support themselves. You met my teacher, Ohgi-sensei, when we went into the ghettos. He was the one who knew your brother. Back when the war started, he wasn’t even done his teaching degree yet. He was working on his practicum. But yeah, anyway, he’s the one who took me on. I only got in at all since my cousin, Tamaki, was already one of his students before the war. I was lucky though. It’s hard to find a teacher who has room for more students. Lots of kids go without, or have to learn from their parents and older siblings.”

Kallen stared at him, overcome with an emotion that she could only really call blind admiration. How many of her classmates only went to school because they had to? Because it was expected of them? Meanwhile, kids in the ghettos were fighting for the right to an education.

“I had no idea.” She said awkwardly. Food and shelter, yes, she’d thought of those. She’d even considered the rampant utility theft that went on, where suddenly the ghettos were hooked back up to the power grid despite the Britannian government repeatedly shutting them down. But education? Japanese kids struggling to find someone who would teach them basic math or how to write?

“I don’t need or want your pity.” Gin said.

“I don’t pity you.” She said quickly, raising her head to meet his gaze steadily. “I have so much respect for you. Not just for you, for all of the Japanese who have to deal with that kind of shit every day. It’s really . . . very humbling to me and kind of makes me feel like crap for taking school for granted.”

He laughed slightly but before he was given a chance to say anything the curtain between the dining area and the kitchen swished open and three people carrying massive trays marched out, with Kusunoki Mai in the lead. Seconds later, their table was filled to the brim with food. Not just ramen but a dozen different dishes she hadn’t had since before Britannia invaded.

“Itadakimasu.” She said quietly, bowing her head toward Gin’s aunt, more than a little overwhelmed by the spread and the friendly reception for someone like her.

Gin grinned a kind of ‘I told you so’ smile before repeating the sentiment and lifting his chopsticks.

****

***

****

Tohdoh watched calmly as Suzaku turned and paced back up the length of the room past the window and behind the armchair that Lelouch sat in, chin resting on his cradled fingers. Anyone who didn’t know these boys as well as he did would assume that Suzaku was the one who was distressed.

But Tohdoh did know these boys. He’d watched them grow up into young men, trained them, taught them, molded them into the men they were today. He had met with the Kururugi boys almost every day for the last eight years. In many ways, he considered them surrogate sons of his own. He cared for them both as much as any father cared for their children. Which was why his gaze was drawn to the one who was the most uncertain at this moment in time, even if that boy might not have been the one he was supposed to care about the most.

The General’s gaze travelled over Lelouch, noting the dark circles under the boy’s eyes—not that uncommon of a sight— and the tension that seemed to hum in every muscle under the ex-prince’s skin. He looked tired and worn out, troubled. The fact that these obvious indicators were visible on someone who usually took such care not to give anything of himself away was all the more testament to just how upset Lelouch really was.

Lelouch’s unique violet gaze travelled to the clock ticking on the wall across from him to the telephone sitting on the side table next to his chair before falling back to the ground at his feet. It was a cycle that had repeated itself roughly every three to seven minutes over the last two hours.

The boy was stalling, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t have to make the call that would undoubtedly be brought up by his enemies and condemned at some later, inconvenient time. Tohdoh wasn’t as upset by that revelation as some other caring mentor might have been. There needed to be consequences for every choice these boys made, especially for heavy choices like this. It bred responsibility.

All the same, it didn’t mean that Lelouch couldn’t and wouldn’t preempt some of those consequences as he saw fit. That was the reason why he was here, after all. As a trusted General of the Prime Minister, his presence here at the time of the decision would alleviate some of the fallout.

He’d been both startled and uneasy when Lelouch had approached him earlier that evening and laid out the entire situation for him. It was unlike Lelouch to ask for help. He was much more the type to suffer in silence, trapped within a kind of self-loathing that just accepted every insult and difficult situation that was dealt his way.

But Lelouch had never had to make a decision like this before. He’d never been trusted with the lives of others due to the insistence of certain members of the Prime Minister’s regime who knew exactly who the boy was. It was somewhat cruel that the first chance Lelouch got to prove himself as capable without his supervisor breathing down his neck led to a situation like this. The two agents the boy had placed on this job were either too valuable or too strategically well placed to risk at this point in time. Lelouch was, unfortunately, stuck in a time crunch and had to resort to using a blunt instrument where time and a scalpel would usually have sufficed.

Suzaku turned and trudged up the length of the room again, hands fisting and flexing anxiously at his sides as if vicariously bleeding out all of his brother’s anxieties. Lelouch had always been a closed book when it came to his emotions. He’d always played things close to the vest, unsure which things he said or did would be used against him in the future. Suzaku was the direct opposite. Suzaku was open and charming, wildly exuberant. He was emotional, letting his moods and whims dictate his actions as if trying to make up for Lelouch’s repression.

Lelouch glanced at the clock again and Tohdoh managed to catch his gaze before it could travel to the phone and back to the floor. They stared at each other for a long moment, the tension spiking in the boy to the point that his movements seemed jerky for a moment before he sighed  in defeat.

“It’s past time, Lelouch-sama.” He said softly. It wasn’t an order to get a move on, merely an observation of the time of which Lelouch was no doubt already aware. His agents were supposed to have brought him something relevant almost an hour ago. No information had been forthcoming. If Lelouch was serious about the choice he intended to make, he needed to make the call.

“I know.” Lelouch said quietly but didn’t move, thoughts undoubtedly racing.

Suzaku stopped his pacing to witness their exchange, silent but with his face so full of anxiety and helplessness that it was almost painful to witness. Suzaku, obviously, didn’t want Lelouch to have to make the choice.

“You have an objective. You must complete it, Lelouch-sama.” Tohdoh said again, tone still coaxing.

There was a long moment of silence between them before Lelouch sighed in frustration, running his hands through his hair as if tearing it all out would somehow fix the situation. He reached for the phone, dialing a number from memory..

“Pappsukal, it’s me.” Lelouch said heavily. “I . . . I need you to deliver those packages. . . . Yes, all of them.”

Tohdoh watched the boy for a moment longer as he hung the phone back onto its base and sat back, hands clenched on either arm of the chair, the tips turning white from the pressure. Aside from the noted tension his fingers, there was no other indication of his distress. Lelouch’s face was blank and his eyes were void of any turmoil.

He sighed as he pushed himself to his feet, squeezing Lelouch’s shoulder reassuringly as he passed on his way out of the room. Lelouch would be okay. It wouldn’t be like nothing had happened, but the boy would persist as he had always done, like a weed in someone’s garden that had been trod on and ripped out but still managed to keep growing back.

****

 

****  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I know it's been a while but I've had some computer problems which are still going on. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think. 
> 
> Allora


	13. Storm

_The moon was bright up in the_ _sky. It lit their path_ _as they picked their way down through the open forest toward the city. Lelouch was glad for the light_ _,_ _and for the fact that the forest floor was more or less free of underbrush and dead fall. His legs, arms_ _,_ _and shoulders were burning with the exertion of carrying Nunnally, but he bit down on any complaints that might have once escaped his lips._

_He didn’t have the right to complain. Not when he was complicit in this. Not when it was their fault this was happening. They’d only been taken in by the Kururugis as a safeguard against this very action. But in the end, here they were._

_Nothing more than decoys. Distractions._

_He stumbled, tripping over his feet and jostling Nunnally at the same time. She yawned tiredly by his ear and fidgeted, trying to get comfortable but almost causing him to lose his grip on her legs._

“ _Are we there yet?” She asked plaintively._

“ _Not yet, Nunnally.” He said softly. “Go back to sleep.”_

“ _I’m cold.”_

_He swallowed thickly, almost drowned by his own sense of hopelessness. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t have a blanket for you.”_

_Nunnally sighed then dropped her forehead back down on his shoulder. “Okay.” She said sleepily._

_When Lelouch stumbled again, Suzaku caught his arm. “Let me take her.” Suzaku said quietly._

“ _No.”_

“ _Lelouch, you’re exhausted. Just let me take her for a while.”_

“ _I said no.” He snarled._

“ _Lelouch -” Suzaku protested._

“ _I want to go with Suzaku for a bit.” Nunnally said suddenly, already reaching for their friend._

_He slumped and let his sister be taken from him, defeated with a few words from her._

“ _Sorry, Suzaku. You just . . .”  Just took away the only thing he had left. Took away the only thing he could_ do _in this situation. He was powerless, but at least he could still take care of Nunnally._

“ _It’s okay. Just don’t push yourself.” Suzaku said softly. “Now, are you comfortable, Nunnally?”_

“ _Yeah. You’re warmer than Lelouch.” She answered before snuggling back down to sleep._

_He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath, willing himself not to feel completely useless. It was just for a little while. He’d be needed again - have purpose again - soon enough._

“ _Let’s go.” He said, even though he was exhausted. He couldn’t stay still_ _;_ _he wouldn’t rest for a moment until Nunnally was somewhere safe. He would be damned if he forced her to hide out in a forest._

_The Kururugi Shrine where he and Nunnally had been kept was on the peripheral edge of Tokyo, atop a tall hill surrounded by an old forest. This morning, the woods had been their sanctuary; a place where they could get along with each other without the disapproving glares of the adults burning into them._

_Now, it was a treacherous landscape they had to traverse before they could reach safety._

“ _Yeah, let’s go.” Suzaku agreed determinedly._

_They pressed on, Suzaku noticeably more steady on his feet even despite the added burden of Nunnally’s weight. Lelouch kept close to them, terrified of being separated as the ground began to finally even out and lights from the city polluted the darkness of the forest. They_ _both_ _unconsciously slowed, catching their breath while still hidden beneath the boughs of the trees._

“ _How far is it to the other house?” He asked, wishing they had water or food. Or sweaters to keep them warm through the night. They’d been out playing in the forest, leading Nunnally on an adventure, when they’d heard the explosion that had destroyed the Kururugi Shrine. By the time they’d argued over whether or not it was safe to go back and finally trudged back toward Suzaku’s house, there was nothing but burning rubble left. They had only the clothes on their backs._

“ _I don’t know.” Suzaku said._

“ _What do you mean you don’t know?” Lelouch demanded._

“ _It’s not like I’ve ever had to walk there before.” Suzaku huffed._

“ _You at least know the way, right?” He asked._

_Suzaku hesitated. “Look, it’s against the ocean, alright? So all we’ve got to do is head toward the ocean and then follow along the coast. We’ll be sure to find it.”_

_Lelouch sighed heavily. He wasn’t sure if Suzaku had no comprehension of how large the coastline was, or if he was_ _just_ _being optimistic for their sakes. He glanced to Nunnally and found that she was awake._

“ _Okay.” He agreed. “Let’s get started then.”_

_They staggered out of the trees and up onto the road that ran parallel to the tree line, then froze as they stared in horror at the devastation before them. This was worse than the strike on the shrine._

_Houses were on fire. Entire streets had been laid to waste._ _Dead people were lying_ _all over the place. A woman was screaming somewhere in the distance. And in the center of all of this destruction stood a pair of massive machines._

“ _What the hell are those?” Suzaku breathed, as if afraid they would hear him despite being over two blocks away._

“ _Knightmares.”_

“ _You knew about these?” Suzaku demanded._

_He sighed. “Mother used to pilot the prototype.”_

_They watched helplessly as the two machines turned to face the handful of tanks and helicopters that were racing to engage them. The cannon fire was deafening as the tanks unloaded on the Knightmares, leaving_ _the trio_ _half deaf even two blocks away. None of the shots actually hit their intended_ _targets though. Instead they crashed into a semi-intact house half a block behind._

_The Knightmares were swift and specifically designed to counter tanks. One took a glancing hit but continued its reckless charge toward the deadly_ _vehicle. A pair_ _of two foot blades tethered to a wire rocketed from_ _its chest_ _to crash into the nearest tank, piercing right through it and probably cutting all of the soldiers within in half._

_In less_ _than a minute, all of the tanks were similarly destroyed and the Knightmares used rifles to open fire on_ _the helicopters that had been circling overhead. One of the helicopters drifted their way as it crashed toward the ground, but it didn’t get anywhere near them, and the Knightmares paid it no further attention._

_Instead, the massive machines zeroed in on a group of Japanese civilians fleeing the carnage and swiped at them with their massive mechanical hands, crushing them all. Civilians cut down for no other reason than because the pilots_ could _._

_For the first time since it had happened, he was glad that Nunnally was blind; that she didn’t have to witness this massacre. He curled his hands into fists and glanced back at the forest behind them. The trees offered_ _them_ _protection from the war waging in the streets, but if they turned back now they would eventually just end up starving to death or dying of exposure._

_They had to brave the city._

“ _Are you ready, Suzaku?” He asked quietly as he stepped forward with eyes unaverted._

“ _Yeah.”_

  
***

  
  


There. There it was. The fruits of his labour. Outrage and fury. Death marauding through the streets like it hadn’t since the first strikes of the invasion, when Britannia had thought the country would fall in a matter of weeks. 

Lelouch sighed and changed the channel to a Britannian news station instead of the local one. The images were the same, but the stories were completely different. The vile Elevens were rising up against their masters and audaciously daring to attack them. Such monsters. 

Three days ago, Lelouch had sent his couriers to deliver packages to every Japanese agent and informant he had access to. Within each package had been varying interpretations of the proposed registration laws to facilitate the spread of the rumour mill and the order to incite a riot in response. The country had gone to hell overnight and showed no sign of stopping its momentum. 

Three days in and the Britannian government had yet to restore order. Emboldened by the lack of a sufficient response, the rioters had become even more reckless. Yesterday in Kyoto, angry Japanese rioters had attacked the mayor’s office and killed the majority of the people inside. This morning, rioters in Tokyo had attempted the same thing and been indiscriminately gunned down by police. 

And that was only some of the more major incidents. In every Britannian occupied city in the country, marauding groups of Japanese were lashing out at every Britannian they came across. Theft, rape, assault, and murder were spreading rampant across the country, bringing out the very worst of the Japanese people.  

They were disorganized, but never since the war had started had the Japanese people as a whole been this incensed. Tohdoh was trying to organize a resistance with the rioters, seeing the opportunity to possibly take back the country, or at least part of it while the Britannians were still reeling from the sudden assault, but that was not Lelouch’s goal. 

He’d done this, caused thousands of people to die and descended the country into chaos, for the sake of getting to a single man.

He closed his eyes and drowned out his guilt. He just forced himself to go numb for a while as he watched the news with a critical eye, watching for any detail he might be able to use. 

“We’re reporting live from St. Bishop’s Elementary School in Yokohama where just hours ago a mob of over a hundred angry Elevens broke into the school and ransacked the place. Luckily their intention seemed to be theft as the mob stripped the school of almost all of its teaching materials and anything of value. Over a dozen students were injured in the fray as their classes were horrendously interrupted. 

“Three brave teachers and the school’s principal are in critical condition after trying to force the mob to retreat. Witness accounts say that they were quickly overrun at their position near the front doors of the school and savagely beaten by the Elevens.

“The ordeal lasted almost an hour as students cowered in their classrooms watching the Elevens take anything they wanted, waiting for help to arrive. By the time police arrived at the scene to enforce order, most of the Elevens had dispersed. The few who remained at the time either fled or faced off against police and were subsequently killed. No officers were lost in the altercation.

“Students were sent home as soon as the police secured the area. It is expected that St. Bishop's will be closed for the next few weeks until they can resupply the school and order has been restored to the city. St. Bishops Elementary has a student body of more than four hundred children who have now lost access to their education.

“Nearby schools, such as the all girl Lady Emeline Academy, are considering closing their doors as well to protect their students from becoming targeted by the Eleven hoard. If so, it marks a disheartening trend for the education of our children in the face of the terror on the streets.”

He noted that no one mentioned just why a Japanese mob might find a school a valuable target. He also noted that they were being vilified more for raiding a school than they had been when fifteen dock workers had been maimed and killed by a mob in the same city just yesterday. 

Hypocrites. All Britannians were hypocrites. Thought they were so _entitled_. Like suffering was something only lesser people had to tolerate, and that any problem they had needed to be addressed immediately so they could go back to their blissfully ignorant lives. 

He hated it. And he hated that he was one of them. That, had things gone differently in his life, he might have grown up to be as stupidly frivolous as Clovis. 

His phone rang and he glanced at the caller ID before connecting the call. He said nothing waiting for the code that would identify the agent on the other end. 

“And set a watcher upon her, great and strong Argos, who with four eyes looks every way.”

Argos. Named after the hundred-eyed giant in Greek mythology. He was like an information hub in downtown Tokyo, coordinating the agents he had tentatively placed within the Viceroy’s palace and the surrounding corporate buildings. 

“And the goddess stirred in him unwearying strength: sleep never fell upon his eyes; but he kept sure watch always.” He answered the quote. 

“You’re out of time, sir. Some of the local leaders are going to hit the palace. They’re under the guise of a peaceful protest at the moment, but the Central Plaza is littered with concealed weapons and explosives.” 

“This was your idea?” He asked. 

“No. I chose not to take a leadership role to prevent my ties to the Intelligence Division being discovered.” Argos answered. 

Lelouch rubbed his forehead. “When?”

“Today. In mere hours.” 

After which, the Britannians would viciously respond. Whether they managed to kill Clovis or not, a response was imminent. Which meant that, once again, he was out of time. 

“Thank you. Stay out of the assault if you can do so without losing face. You’re too valuable to let you die here.” 

“Yes, sir. I never intended to join the attack.” 

“Good. It seems I have preparations to make. Take care.”

“You too, sir.” Argos said before hanging up on him. 

Lelouch sighed. He was beginning to loath this assignment. 

  
***

  
  


Kallen ducked her head, hands stuffed in her pockets as she hurried through the subway station past a group of Japanese milling around the exit. She’d gone to a thrift store and bought a pair of worn out jeans and a sweater, which she had changed into after school before heading for the train. 

She’d hoped it would make her less of a target, and it seemed to be working. No one had bothered her yet, neither Britannian or Japanese. She hoped her luck continued to hold as she took the steps up to the Central Plaza two at a time. 

She hadn’t heard from Gin since they met four days ago. She’d given him her number and told him to call if he ever needed her or if he was ever in trouble. She hadn’t gotten his number in return since he didn’t have a phone, so she had no way to contact him to see if he was okay other than by going to see him face-to-face. 

She hoped that the reason he hadn’t phoned her was because he wasn’t in trouble, not that he was too proud to or had been incapacitated. On her way here she’d passed a vigilante group of Britannian teenagers who had been harassing any Japanese they had seen. They hadn’t looked that dangerous compared to some of the other mobs she’d heard about on the news, like the one that had left the bodies of eleven Japanese laid out on the street as an example of what happens when they rebelled. 

She came up from the station into the familiar surroundings of the Central Plaza, except this time it was packed full of people. She froze and made sure her hair was tucked under the hood of her sweater, hovering in a moment of indecision as to whether or not it was worth the risk to brave the crowd of Elevens in the plaza. 

But she’d already come this far. It would be stupid to go back now without at least checking for Gin. 

She kept her head down and searched the faces of the people in the square from under the brim of her hood as she made her way to where Gin’s stand usually sat. She didn’t think she’d ever seen this many Japanese people in the Settlement since she was a child. 

No one paid attention to her as she slipped through the crowd, everyone focused on the northern edge of the square where the protesters were thickest before the gate to the Viceroy’s Palace. Some of them held up signs boasting slogans such as “We’re not your pets” and “Say no to registration”. The line of soldiers protecting the gate had yet to react to the protest, likely only because the protesters were being peaceful and they were afraid of turning them into martyrs. 

A gap formed in the crowd in front of her for a moment and she nearly sagged in relief at the sight it revealed. Gin’s stand was in the same place as always and he was there, watching the crowd warily. Despite the number of people around him, none of them seemed to be customers. He was working, as if anarchy wasn’t raging all around him.

She quickened her pace as she approached, her smile growing as she took in his appearance and noted that he was unharmed. “Gin.” She called happily. 

His gaze snapped toward her, eyes widening in surprise as a handful of the others around the stand noted the exchange. 

“Who’s this, Gin?” One of them asked in Japanese; a man in his late thirties. The man was huge, standing a full head and shoulders over her. He stepped in close, invading her personal space as a couple of the others did the same, effectively surrounding her. 

“She’s no one. Just a customer.” Gin answered, rolling his eyes. 

This wasn’t some teen drama movie so she wasn’t going to feel upset by his dismissal of her. Obviously she’d just stepped in the middle of something and he was trying to protect her. Again. 

“A customer, huh?” The man said, chuckling darkly. “Well far be it from me to keep you from business, Gin. Keep taking money from these assholes.” 

A warning glance from Gin told her not to let them know that she knew Japanese. “A hotdog please.” She said, because that was pretty much the only thing she could do while playing along. If Gin was going to play strangers with her, then trying to chat with him would only cause more trouble. 

“Sure.” Gin said, fixing her a hotdog even though he knew she didn’t eat them. 

She pulled out her wallet to pay for the unwanted meal only to have it snatched from her hands by the man on her right. Her heart froze in her chest and she sent a panicked look toward Gin. Her ID was in a clear plastic sleeve in the front of her wallet. Her ID which clearly identified her as a Stadtfeld. 

“Hey, how much do you charge for one of those?” The man asked Gin in heavily accented Britannian.

“Two pounds.” 

“That’s it? Don’t you think that’s a little too cheap for having to put up with Britannian bullshit every day? You have to pay for your business license and food permits. You have to pay protection and work permits to the police so they don’t haul you off without warning. How do you get by? No, I think you’re not charging enough, Gin. I think this is more appropriate.” The man said as he pilfered her wallet of all her cash. 

She’d had about sixty pounds in there and she happily let him have it so long as he remained more interested in her money than her identity. Gin made an exasperated sound. “Fine.” Gin said, snatching the bills out of the man’s hand. “Now give her back her wallet and let her go.” 

“Awfully protective of her, aren’t you?” The man asked. 

“Returning customers are a rare commodity for me.” Gin replied. “And since you said you would not disrupt my business, I would like for you to do no further harm.”

“Tch, fine.” The man said, shoving her wallet back into her hands. 

Kallen stuffed it into her bag, grateful that things hadn’t gone horrifically wrong. “Thanks.” She said softly. 

“Here.” Gin said, holding out the hotdog she’d been coerced into buying. She took it tentatively and glanced up at him, wondering if he was in trouble. But even if he was, there was nothing she could do to help him in this situation. “And your receipt.” Gin said significantly, holding out a slip of paper toward her. 

For a moment she wondered if it was a joke or if he were taunting her as the people around them guffawed. She took it, uttering another small thank you before turning her back on them and slipping back into the crowd, making certain to keep her head down after making such a mistake just moments ago. 

She glanced down at the hotdog and dropped it in the nearest garbage, then looked at the receipt. Gin had left her a message on it. Not a kind message, but a message to let her know that she hadn’t been completely abandoned. 

_Leave_ _ NOW, _ _idiot._

She crumpled up the slip of paper and tossed it away as well, heading back toward the train station. As if she’d needed him to tell her. It was obvious Gin was mixed up in something he wanted her to stay away from. And it was obvious that this wasn’t a safe place for her.

She hurried down the stairs into the station, her feet only just reaching the landing when the sound of an explosion rocked the square above. The noise was almost deafening even though she was in the southernmost corner of the plaza and the shock wave staggered her on the last step. Her head jerked up in surprise and she turned, foolishly of half a mind to rush back up there to see if Gin was okay. 

A hand closing over her arm and jerking her back down onto the landing kept her from rushing off. She glared over her shoulder, meeting the leer of the man who had latched onto her. She’d forgotten about the group of Japanese lurking at the bottom of the stairs. They hadn’t bothered her on her way up, but they probably hadn’t seen her face then. 

“Hey, bitch, where do you think you’re going?” He said, “You should come with us.” 

“I’ll pass.” She snarled. “Now let go of me.”

“I wasn’t asking.” The man replied, tugging on her arm. 

She kicked him in his most vulnerable area before she could be surrounded by his friends. He let go of her with a pained groan and she wasted no time in turning and running into the growing crowd of panicked people waiting for the next train in the station. The explosion had triggered evacuation protocols in a bunch of the corporate towers around the square, and the station was filling up with employees from the underground office entrances. The muted alarms from the office buildings added to the cacophony of panicked voices.

She pushed her way past a group of scared women in business suits and a man with glasses who looked like an accountant. They looked like push-overs, and she could hear the angry pursuit of the friends of the man she’d incapacitated behind her. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and landed on a pair of men just exiting one of the corporate entrances. They were both dressed in business suits. One was nothing special to look at; an attractive man in his mid-twenties. The other looked like a mafioso. He was in his fifties, broad shouldered and stern looking. He looked like the kind of guy who could crush a man’s skull with his bare hands. In a word, he looked scary and was exactly what she was looking for.

She sidled up to his side, latching onto his arm. He stood a full head and shoulders over her and glanced down at her with a frown before catching sight of her pursuit. Without a further word, he put his arm around her shoulder and the younger man he was walking with moved so that she was sandwiched in between them. 

Her pursuers backpedalled and abandoned chase, obviously deciding that teaching her a lesson was now more effort than it was worth. She sighed in relief and hoped that she hadn’t just gotten herself into more trouble with whoever these men were. 

“You alright, girl?” The older man asked, dropping his arm from her shoulder. “They hurt you?”

“No, I’m fine. They just tried to grab me when I came down into the station.” She answered. “Thank you for helping me.” 

“It’s not safe for people to be walking around on their own these days. You should be more careful.” He said. 

“I was looking for my friend.” She said. 

“Did you find them?” 

“Yes, but we got separated so I decided to go back on my own.” She answered. 

“That was careless.” He said, turning as the train began pulling into the station. “Come on, we’ll keep an eye on you until your stop, but we’ve got an appointment to keep so unfortunately we can’t take you all the way home.”

“You don’t have to trouble yourself.” She said, unsure if she wanted to let these people even know what stop she was headed to. But then again, they had just saved her when they could have just ignored to and left her to her fate. 

“It’s no trouble. We’re going to same way, right?” He said, ushering her onto the train. 

“I suppose.” She said, sitting in a vacant seat near the window. The men sat side by side across from her. 

She sighed and pulled her hood down off of her hair, slumping in her seat. It had been an eventful day so far and she hoped the excitement was over for now.

“I’m Richard Wright and this is my son Thomas.” The man said once they were settled and the train started down the track. He offered his hand to shake and she was halfway through the motion of going to shake it when she realized that he’d said Wright. 

Richard only smiled at her hesitance. “Scared of us?”

“No, I was just surprised. I thought earlier that you looked like some kind of mafia boss. I didn’t think it was actually true though.” She said. 

The two men shared a chuckle. “A retired mafia boss maybe, but I suppose that’s hard to convey.” Richard said.

“I’m Kallen.” She said as she followed through on her aborted action and shook their hands. 

“Pardon if this seems like a strange question, but have we met before?” Thomas asked. 

She quirked her eyebrow at him and gave him a closer inspection. “I doubt it.” She had never been introduced to the Wrights before. 

“Ah, I see it now. You have an amazing resemblance to Lord Nathan Stadtfeld. Are you a relation of his?” Thomas said after a moment. 

She frowned, her mood souring. “There’s no relation.” 

  
***

  
  


“Good work today, guys.” Suzaku called to his soldiers on the way out of the change room. They were beginning to perform better in the simulators. He accredited that to Mura’s presence. No longer was he just a freak of nature with outstanding scores. Now there was someone else who could match him and it served to encourage the rest of them. 

They were already exemplary soldiers; the very best the Japanese Knightmare Division had to offer. And now he was making them even _better_. They would be unstoppable the next time they were called into battle. 

He paused upon finding Lelouch waiting for him, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like shit. The bags under his eyes had grown even larger and his skin was still pale. 

Suzaku hadn’t seen him much since he’d instigated the riots in the other islands. Not for a lack of trying, but rather because Lelouch had been avoiding him. Lelouch had been avoiding everyone as he’d wallowed in his guilt. 

He sighed and came to rest next to his brother. “What’s up?”

“I need a prop for my next performance.” Lelouch said quietly. “I was hoping you would help me with it.” 

“No.” He said, watching as his soldiers began emerging from the change room. 

Lelouch said nothing for a while, waiting until all of the soldiers had dispersed. “No? Why not?”

“Because you have that look in your eye that tells me I won’t like what you want me to do.” He sighed. 

Lelouch chuckled. “Well, that’s true. But you’d like it even less if someone else did it.” 

Suzaku frowned, letting out an exasperated sigh. “What do you want me to do?”

“You know what I have planned for Gottwald. I have to be the most pitiful thing he’s ever seen.” Lelouch said. 

He grimaced. “Why don’t you just go there and order him to follow you? He would, wouldn’t he? He swore to serve you, didn’t he?”

“That’s what he would expect. Especially of an impostor. Instead, I have to make him want to help me. I have to appeal to his protective instincts. So I will ask you again, will you help me, Suzaku?”

He let out a loud sigh. “I have to, don’t I? When are you leaving?”

“Tonight.”

“Then you want me to do it now?” He asked. 

“As soon as we’re alone. We don’t need your soldiers thinking badly of you.” Lelouch said softly. 

“For the record, I want you to know that I hate that you’re asking me to do this. But I know that if I don’t, you’ll lip off some asshole and it will be worse.” He said firmly. He was resigned to doing this himself, because he would kill whoever else laid hands on his brother. He hated it, but he’d still do it to keep Lelouch safe. At least he knew he wouldn’t take things too far.

Lelouch nodded in agreement, not even trying to deny the charge. “There’s no one I trust more than you, Suzaku.”

He didn’t bother to respond, instead pushing open the door to the change room to make sure that all of his subordinates were gone. They were. He sighed regretfully then turned back toward his brother and let his fist fly. 

He held back just short of breaking Lelouch’s cheek. It would swell and look horrific, but there would be no lasting damage. In a week or two he wouldn’t even be able to tell Lelouch had been hit. 

A second hit split his lip, after which Lelouch brought his arms up to protect his face. He kicked him in chest, slamming his brother back against the wall with his boot. The air rushed out of Lelouch and he let out a pained gasp as he slumped to the floor. 

“Shit.” Lelouch coughed. “Keep going. Nothing more to the face though. He has to still recognize me.” 

“Fucking masochist.” Suzaku grumbled. “Two more and I’m done.”

Lelouch only nodded. 

He opted for making his final two hits to his arms so they looked like defensive wounds as Lelouch curled himself up into a fetal position on the ground beneath him. They collided hard, sure to leave dark bruises on Lelouch’s naturally pale skin. 

Suzaku sighed and stepped back as Lelouch dropped his arms, wincing slightly. 

“Well, how do I look?” Lelouch asked. 

“Like someone just beat the shit out of you.” He replied before reaching down to pull his brother back up to his feet. “Let’s go get an icepack or you won’t be able to see out of that eye.”

“Thank you, Suzaku.” Lelouch said softly. 

“I’ll reschedule my next few days so I can go with you. It seems like it’s dangerous to be alone in Tokyo these days.” He said, instead of acknowledging the gratitude.

“That’s not necessary.” Lelouch said firmly, in a tone that suggested that not only was it not necessary, but that Lelouch would fight tooth and nail against it. “I will be perfectly safe, I promise you. And we cannot risk your safety in such a volatile environment.”

He scowled at his brother, but Lelouch had a point. And their father would probably kick his ass if he blew off all of his scheduled appointments just to follow Lelouch around on a mission. He sighed. 

“Be careful, then.” 

“I always am.” Lelouch replied.

  
  
  



	14. Lightning

_Jeremiah sighed and held up the thick envelope in his hand questioningly. He wasn’t sure why he was being given such a thing. He was just the rookie. Surely it didn’t make sense to leave something like this in his care._

“ _You’re the one who is always so uptight about it.” Louis replied before promptly raising his camera and taking a picture of his confused expression._

“ _What the hell am I supposed to do with them?” He demanded._

_His comrade shrugged, as if he didn’t care. “Whatever you want.” Louis said before turning and heading out of the room._

_Jeremiah glanced down at the envelope and sighed. Within were hundreds of negatives; a photographic record of life within the Aeries Villa. And amongst those hundreds were photos of the royal family._

_It was true that he’d voiced his displeasure at Louis’ hobby, and that he’d worried about what could happen if some of those photos ever found their way into the hands of the Empress’ enemies. But that didn’t mean that he’d wanted to be charged with their safekeeping. He’d been hoping that Lady Marianne would want to take the negatives and put an end to Louis’ courting of disaster._

_He thought of destroying them. He could burn them all and put an end to the threat once and for all. He knew that Louis never kept any of the photos for himself. They were usually given to the photograph’s subject. And he knew that Lady Marianne had albums of photos of her children thanks to Louis’ hobby. That ought to have been enough then. There was no further need for the negatives. Everyone who needed a copy already had one._

_But he recoiled at the thought of actually going through with it. Somehow, burning the visage of the Empress and her children seemed disrespectful. As disrespectful as burning a library, or a Britannian flag. Instead, he would have to come up with a solution to this problem; a safe place for this evidence to rest._

_Sighing heavily, Jeremiah opened the locking drawer of his desk and tossed the envelope inside. It would do for the time being. He’d figure out a more permanent solution for it later. For now, he was about to be late for the beginning of his shift._

_And for the longest time, he completely forgot about the envelope and all of its contents._

  
***

  
  


It was raining. The kind of constant spring-time drizzle that soaked into everything. Any other day, Lelouch might have thought of it as an annoyance. Today, he welcomed the icy drizzle as he shivered and sniffled under its effects, hair plastered to his scalp and clothes thoroughly soaked through. 

He clenched his jaw to stop his teeth from chattering, but grimaced when it twinged his bruised and swollen cheek. Instead, he focused on taking a deep breath and forcibly relaxing all of the contracted, shivering muscles in his body. It helped, for a few minutes at least.

He checked his cheap, plastic watch. It was just past eight in the evening. There had been no unusual activity in the Margrave’s house since he’d begun his surveillance three hours ago. If Gottwald had been expecting dinner guests or had scheduled an after dinner meeting, it was quickly approaching the time where it was no longer polite to visit. 

He waited another ten minutes, alternating his gaze between the house and the street from his vantage point in the neighbour’s hedge, as he watched for anyone who might approach. Still nothing. All was quiet. 

Lelouch let out a slow breath, composing himself as best as he could given the state that his body was in, before reaching for his cellphone. It was an old, obsolete model that hadn’t been seen since before the war, easily the size of his fist, with a flip speaker and an antenna that needed to be extended before making a call. 

He carefully dialled the number from the card he had been given weeks ago in an alley outside of the Fox Hunt with trembling, frozen fingers before connecting the call and holding the speaker to his ear. 

It rang three, then four times before it was picked up. “This is Gottwald. What’s happened now?” The man demanded brusquely. 

“Ah . . . uh . . . um . . .” He said awkwardly into the phone. 

“Who is this?” Gottwand demanded. 

“This is . . . um . . . never mind. I can come back some other time. It sounds like you’re busy.” He said. 

“Wait!” Gottwald said quickly. 

Lelouch smirked. Hook, line, and sinker. 

“You’re Le -”

“Don’t say my name on the phone!” He said, tone panicky. 

“Alright. Are you unharmed? Do you need my help? Where are you?” The man on the other end of the line asked quickly. 

“I’m . . . uh . . . fine. I’m nearby. I was hoping we could . . . talk about something.” He said, wiping his sopping wet bangs out of his eyes. “If you have time.”

“I will always have time for you.” Gottwald said. 

“I don’t want anyone to see me with you.” He said. “Can you send your servants away?” 

The Margrave hesitated on the other end of the line and he wondered if he’d pushed too far too soon. If this came across as a potential ambush the man would never agree to meet him. But after a moment the man relented. “Yes. I will do so right away. How long until you will be here, my lord?” 

“Um . . .” Lelouch hesitated, glancing around his leafy surroundings. “Now?” 

“Now?” Gottwald asked in surprise. 

“Uh . . . yeah. I’m outside.” He answered. 

“I will send the servants away immediately.”

  
***

Amos jerked in surprise, almost dropping the bottle of wine he was bringing up from the cellar when Lord Gottwald rushed down the hall, grabbing a hold of his collar and dragging him along as he went. 

“What’s going on, Master?” He yelped in surprise as the bottle was taken from his hands and unceremoniously deposited on the closest horizontal surface, a spindly little table next to the sofa in the den. 

“You need to leave. Everyone needs to leave. Right now.” Gottwald said as he collared Lizette as well and ushered them toward the servant’s entrance. There were other members of the household staff already there, putting their shoes and jackets on or searching for umbrellas. 

“Um . . . okay. I . . .” He spluttered, out of his depth for a moment. What the hell was happening?

“None of you come back before I call you.” The master of the house said firmly. “To do so will lead to your immediate termination.”

Amos wondered just which way the man meant to use that last word, but either way it was damning. He sent a bewildered glance Lizette’s way, but she seemed just as confused by the master’s behaviour as he was. Instead of asking why and drawing attention to himself, he reached for his coat and hat and pulled them on.

“Yes, Master.” He said, echoing the agreement of the rest of the assembled staff. 

“Good. Now get out.” Gottwald said firmly, watching as the first of them slipped out the door. 

Amos offered his arm to Lizette, which she took gratefully as he’d managed to snag the last umbrella in the stand by the door. As they left the estate amidst the group of gossiping servants, he turned to Lizette with an arched eyebrow. 

“So, is this a regular occurrence?” He asked. He was still the ‘new guy’ and so could get away with being snoopy about this. 

“No. Not for as long as I’ve been here, at least.” She answered. “I wonder what’s gotten into him.”

Amos wondered too and glanced back at the estate as they passed through the gate, wondering how best to sneak back onto the premises without being caught. He knew that the entire grounds of the estate were monitored by surveillance cameras.

Damn it. He cursed himself for not littering the estate with listening devices. At least then he would know what the hell was going on. 

“Do you have a place to go if this is going to take all night?” He asked instead of asking if there was some secret entrance back onto the estate that he could use. 

“Yes. My brother and his wife live not too far away. What about you?” She asked. 

“Yeah. I’ve got a friend who lives a couple stations away.” He nodded. 

“Will you be alright riding the train alone? I heard it’s dangerous since the riots started. I’m calling a taxi. We could share it.” She suggested. 

“I’ll be fine. I’d be more worried if you were going to take the train alone. I’ll wait with you for the taxi then head off. My friend lives in a pretty good neighbourhood, so there shouldn’t be any problems.” He said. 

He followed through on his promise, waiting next to her under the same umbrella in the rain as he waited for her cab to arrive. He watched as the rest of the staff similarly dispersed, either heading for the train station or waiting for a cab. 

“Are you sure?” Lizette asked as she got into the cab, handing him back the umbrella he’d tried to send her off with. 

“Yes. Don’t worry. I’ll see you tomorrow, or whenever we’re called back.” He said with a smile. 

“Okay.” She relented. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Dirk.” 

Amos watched her go, the last of the servants waiting in the rain, before glancing back up at the estate. This was too much of an opportunity to pass up. But if it could lead to him being removed from the house, could he really risk it?

He pulled out his phone and dialled the number that would put him in contact with his handler. It rang six or seven times before clicking off. There was no voicemail. Lelouch wasn’t answering. He was on his own. 

He glanced back up at the house through the rain, then at the chest high hedge that ran along the perimeter of the property and the wrought iron gate that one of the servants had thoughtfully closed behind them. 

Keeping his head bowed as if in thought, he started down the street, keeping one eye on the hedge looking for weak points. Unfortunately, the points he did find revealed that the hedge had been grown up around a wrought iron fence topped with sharp spikes. Anyone trying to sneak through the hedge into the Gottwald estate would be in for a nasty surprise. 

“Leave, Amos.” A voice said quietly, sending a shock of surprise through his system. He froze, glancing around wildly for the person who had spoken his real name. 

There was no one in sight, but a rustle from behind the neighbour’s hedge suggested that someone was hiding there. He reined in his immediate instinct to seek the person out. There were only two people who knew that the servant named Dirk Boyden was actually Amos Russell. One was Nathan Stadtfeld and the other was Lelouch Kururugi. 

Nathan had no reason to hide in the bushes outside of Gottwald’s estate. In fact, he couldn’t see the nobleman doing it even if he did have a reason. Which stood to reason that the person on the other side of the hedge was actually the Prime Minister’s adopted son, who had more than a few reasons to hide his face. 

Amos let out a slow breath and continued walking. It seemed like they were finally making their move against Gottwald. If so, he wondered how much longer he would be stationed as a servant in the Gottwald estate. These kinds of long, drawn out missions weren’t his speciality. He was usually in and out, focusing on getting the information or goods he needed before slipping away without drawing attention to himself. Not that it mattered. He’d go where he was told. 

He stuffed his free hand into his pocket and silently wished his handler luck in the upcoming recruitment scheme. He would probably need it.

  
***

 

Jeremiah paced anxiously as he waited for his household staff to leave. Every second his servants wasted out there was another second delaying his meeting. Prince Lelouch was out there right now. Or Prince Lelouch’s impostor was. He had yet to come to a conclusive decision over whether or not the boy he’d met in the alley was actually the prince, but this meeting would serve as a good chance to do so. 

He let out a slow breath and looked out the window again, noting that the last of his servants had finally actually left, meandering away toward the nearest train station. He steeled himself for the disappointment of finding out that the person waiting outside was just an impostor before grabbing his umbrella and walking casually down to the street as he looked for his visitor. 

There was no sign of him anywhere. 

Jeremiah frowned. Where would someone who wouldn’t want to be seen stay to keep out of sight of the mass exodus of servants he’d just expelled from his house? Perhaps he was looking in the wrong place. Perhaps the boy was waiting in the alley behind the place, though there was no way through the fence from that direction. 

Just as he was about to give up searching and head toward the back of the estate, there was a rustle near the corner of his estate and someone popped up from Lord Newton’s hedge. The intruder glanced around cautiously before working to extricate himself from the clingy bushes. Jeremiah moved toward the person, senses heightened for some kind of ambush. But the person merely stumbled free of the bushes before glancing up at him. 

Jeremiah froze in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise. 

“Your highness!” He gasped. All thoughts of whether the boy was an impostor or not were forgotten in the wake of seeing his injuries. Half of the boy’s face was covered in a dark, almost black bruise complementing the dark, bloody line of his split lip. 

“You said you were unharmed. Who did this to you?” He demanded darkly. 

The boy shook his head mutely and dropped his gaze, giving him a nonchalant shrug, as if his injuries were nothing. “I’m fine.” The prince muttered between chattering teeth. “It was just a couple of assholes.”

He wanted to press for answers, but took a closer look at the boy and realized he was soaked to the bone. He didn’t even have a rain jacket, let alone an umbrella. He looked like a drowned rat. “How long have you been out here? You’re going to catch your death. Come inside.” 

The prince glanced around hesitantly again before nodding slightly. Jeremiah forced his umbrella into the boy’s shaking hands before leading him back into the house. 

His mind was racing with basic first aid. How to prevent hypothermia. How to prevent the boy from catching pneumonia. Those needed to be his first priorities. After he was sure that the boy wasn’t about to die in his foyer, he could deal with whether or not it was actually Empress Marianne’s son and what had brought him here.

He left the boy in the foyer, clothes so wet that they were dripping and leaving a growing pool of water on the floor, as he rushed to the nearest linen closet to fetch towels. He needed to get the boy warm and dry before anything else. 

Lelouch accepted the towel gratefully, rubbing it through his hair and across his face and hands before pulling off his sopping wet sweater. The threadbare white t-shirt Lelouch was wearing beneath the sweater was just as soaked and plastered to his skin as the sweater had been, the translucent material revealing dark bruising on his chest to match the marks on his bare arms where he’d undoubtedly tried to defend himself from his attackers. 

Jeremiah’s gaze darkened in anger. He’d fucking kill whoever it was who had left these marks on the boy. No death would be too cruel. 

Of course, the boy seemed more concerned about what to do with his dripping wet sweater than he did with the state of his body. Jeremiah sought for patience and wordlessly took the garment. 

“Come in. We’ll get you into something dry then throw your things into the dryer.” He said. 

“You don’t have to. I’m fine.” The boy protested even though he was still shivering. 

“I insist.” He countered. 

“I said I'm fine. You don't have to bother with that.” 

Jeremiah frowned and wondered why the boy was so adamant about it. Maybe he thought it would take too long and trap him here? Regardless, he would be remiss in his duty if he let the prince sit in wet clothes. 

“You're soaking wet. Not only will you get sick, but you'll ruin the furniture if you sit on it like that.” He reasoned.

The prince let out a reluctant sigh. “Okay . . . fine.” Lelouch nodded before falling back into sullen silence and awkwardly slipping out of his muddy shoes. 

The prince followed him in soggy, socked feet through the house toward the master bedroom where Jeremiah rapidly rifled through his wardrobe in search of something that might fit the vastly smaller teenage boy. He settled on one of his dress shirts and a pair of sweats with a drawstring before excusing himself from the room and ensuring that the fireplace was on in the den. 

When he returned, Lelouch was standing awkwardly in the hall with his wet clothes bundled by his chest as if not quite sure what to do with himself. The clothes he’d borrowed were far too big for him and hung off the prince’s thin frame, but they were warm and dry which was what mattered. Jeremiah smiled sympathetically and took the clothes. 

“Your highness, there’s a fire in the den down the hall on your right if you want to get warmed up.” He said, gesturing in the direction he’d just come from. 

The boy nodded. “Okay.” Lelouch said, keeping his gaze averted. 

Jeremiah watched the prince head down the hall before sighing and heading toward the laundry room. It was only upon coming face to face with the dryer and the plethora of bottles lining the shelf above it that he realized he’d never actually done his own laundry before. Shrugging, he tossed the clothes into the machine before deliberating on the setting. Deciding that he couldn’t go wrong with a straight up number, he set the cycle for an hour and returned to the prince. 

Except the prince was not in the den. The room was empty. 

A surge of disappointment and adrenaline shot through him. So the brat was an impostor then. His office was down the hall from the den and he barged into the room, expecting to find the boy in the act of snooping through his desk or hacking his computer. 

It wasn’t so. 

Instead, the boy was frozen stock still in the center of the room, staring up at the portrait over his desk. Him, kneeling at Empress Marianne’s feet as she’d inducted him into her Royal Guard. 

“Why did you come in here?” He asked, tone firm. 

For a long moment, the boy didn’t answer. He didn’t even acknowledge Jeremiah’s presence, just staring mutely at the portrait. Then, just when Jeremiah was about to ask again, the boy spoke. 

“I noticed it on the way to get clothes.” The boy said, his tone hollow. “I don’t remember her ever making this expression. Never in front of us. But maybe I’ve just forgotten.”

Jeremiah paused, glancing up at the portrait that had sat above his desk ever since he’d moved into this house. He stared at Lady Marianne’s face, scrutinizing the expression carefully. It could only be described as _austere_ , as was expected from an Empress during an official ceremony. 

“Sometimes . . . it feels like I’m slowly forgetting everything about her. Like the memories are there, just out of reach, but I don’t know if they’re something insignificant like a glance or a gesture or an expression, or if they’re life lessons I was never supposed to forget.”

He watched the boy carefully, taken aback by the expression of loss and complete despair in his eyes. That kind of despair was not something that could be imitated. It was the kind of expression that only someone who had lost everything could make. How had he ever doubted that this was truly Lady Marianne's son?

“Your highness, I’m sure that you haven’t forgotten what’s truly important.” He said softly. 

The prince said nothing for a moment before bowing his head. “Maybe.” 

“I have other pictures of your mother and sister if you would like to see them sometime.” He said. There were plenty of candid shots of the royal family as well as the rest of the Royal Guard in the album he had made of the negatives he’d been entrusted with. 

“I would.” The prince nodded. “Can I see them now?”

Jeremiah arched his eyebrow in surprise before gesturing for the boy to follow him into the den where he’d originally intended for him to go, where the fire burned merrily in the fireplace. The prince had said that he'd never call him unless it was an emergency, but so far it didn't seem like the boy was that urgently desperate. Or maybe he was just stalling. Either way, Jeremiah would be ready to help Prince Lelouch as soon as he asked. In the meanwhile, he would indulge the boy's whims. He crossed to the bookshelf as Lelouch seated himself in the armchair closest to the fire, still trembling slightly from the cold. 

“It isn’t organized, but these are all from the Aeries Villa.” He said as he retrieved the old photo album. 

While he’d been serving at the Aeries Villa, he hadn’t quite known what to do with all of the photo negatives he’d been trusted with. He’d tucked them in a drawer and forgotten about them, more concerned about them getting out of the estate and being used by the tabloids than he had been in cherishing them. After the assassination, he’d put them all in this album and had determined not to look at them too much to keep himself from drowning in despair.

Prince Lelouch took the photo album gratefully and began to flip through it. Jeremiah sat in the arm chair across from him and observed. The boy had grown up with his father's height and his mother's thin frame, giving him a wiry build. However, despite his height, the boy seemed predisposed to slouching, as if trying to make himself less noticeable and a smaller threat. It was a travesty and, again, he wanted to rip whoever had dared to hurt the prince to shreds.

He noticed that the prince flipped through several pages of the album with scarcely a glance. They were all shots of other Royal Guardsmen. Some were posed. Some were candid. Most of the album was full of pictures of the Royal Guard since Louis hadn’t known if he’d get in trouble for taking pictures of the royal family at first. Once the Empress had eventually realized her subordinate’s hobby, she’d given her blessing so long as she got a copy of the pictures. 

The prince froze on one page, fingers flexing around the edges of the album. “How did you get this?”

Jeremiah glanced down at the picture in question. It was one of Princess Nunnally with her face pressed so close to the camera her nose almost touched the lens as she made a face with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out. It was just childish fun. He didn’t understand why it was upsetting the prince so much. 

“I didn’t take the pictures. One of the other Royal Guards was a photography hobbyist. I was merely entrusted with his collection.” He answered. 

“She would never . . . she hated having her picture taken. She was camera shy. She always ran away when she had the choice. When she was forced to be photographed, she’d always rebel by doing something stupid in the picture. I think the photo I have is the only family portrait we’d ever had done where she wasn’t making a face or trying to give me bunny ears or something.” Prince Lelouch said softly. “But that wasn’t her. This is her.” 

“You can have it, if you want.” Jeremiah said. 

The prince’s gaze shot up to him uncertainly. “But it’s yours.” 

“She was your sister. Her photos belong more to you than they could ever belong to me.” He said simply. It ought to have been self-explanatory. And even if he’d felt particularly attached to the photos, he’d still have given anything he had to the prince. 

“Thank you.” Prince Lelouch said so softly he almost didn’t hear it, before plucking the photo out of its sleeve and sliding it into his cheap, synthetic leather wallet. 

A few more moments of quiet perusal of the photo album passed before the prince stopped and snorted. The photo that had caught the boy’s eye this time was one of himself, bowed thoughtfully over a chess table in the garden of the Aeries Villa across from Prince Clovis who looked equally pensive. Prince Lelouch couldn’t have been older than seven in the picture, seated across from his fourteen year old brother, yet still had more black pieces left on the board than Clovis. 

“He’d always come to the villa to challenge me. He’d always get so pissed off. He couldn’t beat me no matter how many times we played.” Prince Lelouch said almost wistfully. 

It was like a confirmation for Jeremiah. He remembered this. He remembered watching them play against each other in the garden. He remembered having to forcibly bring the boys inside when it had started raining in the middle of one game since Clovis had refused to quit until he’d won and Lelouch had refused to back down from the challenge. 

This wasn’t information that just anyone would know. The la Britannias generally hadn’t tried to advertise that Clovis was so close to Lelouch. Empress Gabrielle hadn’t exactly been pleased that her only son had been consorting with Empress Marianne’s ‘little heathens’. 

This was really Prince Lelouch. This was _proof_ more than just a mere suspicion based on the boy’s pain. Empress Marianne’s son had survived despite everything that had been thrown at him. 

“I remember.” He said. 

The prince’s gaze snapped to him, staring for a moment before glancing away. “I don’t remember you at all.” Prince Lelouch said before chuckling mirthlessly. “Sorry. I should, right? You were probably always there.”

“I’m not offended. A mere servant such as myself is beneath a prince’s notice.” He said. 

“That’s not what I . . .” The prince protested before cutting himself off and sighing in defeat. “You’re going to treat me like a prince no matter what I say, right?” 

“I’m afraid so, your highness.” He answered with a small smile. “Are you beginning to warm up?” 

“Yeah . . . thanks.” Prince Lelouch said awkwardly as he closed up the photo album and set it aside. “So . . . um . . . how should I address you then? Since you’ve already made up your mind on how to address me.” 

“Address me however you like, your highness.” He said with a smile. 

“I suppose that’s fair . . . Jeremiah.” The prince said before nervously running his hands through his hair and standing up. 

Jeremiah watched from his seat as the boy began to pace, hands fisting and flexing anxiously as he went. So they were finally getting to the reason for this meeting then. 

“Please tell me.” He said. It was almost painful to watch the boy struggle with his pride over having to ask for help. “I’ll do anything within my power to help you.” 

The prince let out a disbelieving snort. “That’s the problem. I don’t even know if it’s within your power. I don’t know if Clovis would listen. It might be impossible.” 

Jeremiah frowned. How had Clovis come into this? But, on the up side, anything that the boy thought would be within Clovis’ power to do was certainly within the realm of possibility since he’d managed to get a leash around the blonde prince. 

“What is it that you need?” He asked. 

The prince ran his hands through his hair again, pulling the damp strands away from his face before grimacing at the pressure it put on his bruised cheek and letting his hands drop to his sides. Prince Lelouch slumped back into his seat, elbows on his knees as he gently buried his face in his hands, careful not to put pressure on his injuries. 

“You know those new laws? The ones that started these riots?” The boy asked, his tone small and hopeless. 

“Yes. I know of them.” He answered. He’d been reserving judgement on them for the time being, hoping that Pratt and his cronies would get their fucking act together and come up with something that would actually help them win this war, instead of stirring up shit that could have been left to fester. 

“Is there . . . any way to stop them, do you think?” Prince Lelouch asked uncertainly. Jeremiah frowned. The boy wanted him to oppose a piece of legislation for his sake? “I mean, you see Clovis all the time, right? Do you think he would listen if someone told him not to put them through? If you could get me close, maybe if I just talked to him -”

“I thought you wanted to remain in hiding.” He said sharply, cutting off the hesitant line of thought. 

The prince fell silent, bowing his head. Silence stretched on for a few long seconds before Jeremiah realized that the prince wasn’t going to say anything further on that particular subject.

“Why do you want to stop those laws so badly?” He asked instead. 

“Because I can’t lose everything again.” The prince said, voice close to breaking. “I won’t. Not even if it kills me. I’d rather go first.” 

“What are you talking about?” 

Prince Lelouch drew in a shaky breath. “When . . . after . . . Nunnally was killed and I was all alone, I probably should have died. But . . . a family took me in, kept me safe even though I was Britannian.” 

‘ _Even though I was Britannian.’_ Meaning, of course, that the people who had taken the prince in were not Britannian. The boy had been in hiding with _Elevens_ all this time? In the ghettos?

His gaze fell over the prince’s injuries and posture with fresh insight. No wonder he was in such bad shape. He was lucky not to have been killed by the damned savages. 

“I’m scared.” The prince admit quietly. “Fucking terrified. My family, they’re _good people_. They took me in when they had nothing even though I was another mouth to feed. They put up with my bullshit. They always took care of me when I was in trouble. Protected me. They’re good people,” The prince said again with a small nod to himself, “but they won’t just sit back to be rounded up and branded like livestock. Especially not my brother.

“I’m scared he’s going to do something stupid like join up with these rioters or run off to fucking Hokkaido to get himself killed. I love that idiot more than anyone else on the planet, so I will do absolutely _anything_ to keep that from happening.” 

Elevens. 

Jeremiah was still trying to put it all together in his head, but the gist of it that he’d gotten so far was that the prince was willing to risk his life by exposing himself to Clovis for the chance that it would overrule the proposed registration laws. All so that he could protect Elevens. 

He sighed. “Don’t be reckless. Your life is worth too much for you to risk it for the sake of Elevens.” 

Prince Lelouch sent him a dirty look at the insult though let his shoulders slump in defeat. 

“These Elevens, did they send you here tonight for this?” He asked. 

The prince shook his head miserably, staring at the floor between his feet. “No. They don’t even know you. Well, they might know of you, but they don’t know that I know you. I snuck out.” 

“Do they know who you are?” He asked. This was a major concern. Bad enough that the prince had been living amongst them all this time, but it was so much worse if they knew what they had their hands on and were actively manipulating him. 

Again, the prince shook his head before shoving the annoyingly overlong sleeves of his borrowed shirt up to his elbows. “I don’t think so. I was kind of a brat at first when they saved me, so they know I’m highborn, but they don’t know I’m a prince. I think they think I’m some orphaned nobleman.” 

Jeremiah nodded thoughtfully as he leaned back in his seat and regarded the boy. There was a kind of fatalistic determination in the boy’s gaze, the same kind of look Lady Marianne used to get before going into battle. If he didn’t help, he knew for certain that the prince would go ahead with his reckless plan and try to approach Clovis himself. And if the assassins that had been out to put an end to the vi Britannia’s were still searching for Prince Lelouch, it would be an automatic death sentence. 

Still, he didn’t like this scenario. He didn’t like being forced into throwing his weight around, especially not for the sake of a bunch of damned Elevens. It was risky. If it got back to Pendragon that he’d managed to usurp so much power for himself, the Emperor might choose to intervene. 

But unless he wanted to watch as the prince was cut down because of his unwillingness to act, he didn’t really have a choice. 

He sighed heavily. “I will talk to Prince Clovis.”

“You will?” Prince Lelouch asked hopefully. “You think he’ll listen to you? He'll stop them?”

“I will make him listen if I have to.” He said, because he wasn’t about to reveal just how much of the Viceroy’s power he’d stripped from Clovis. Even if they hadn’t seen each other in almost a decade, the two were still brothers and Prince Lelouch might take offence. “But I have a condition.” 

“A condition?” The boy repeated warily. 

“You will remain in contact with me once or twice a week so that I know you’re still okay.” He said. All things considered, Jeremiah thought the term was fair. He wasn’t trying to separate the boy from his adopted family, no matter how much he would have liked to. 

“By phone is okay?” The prince asked cautiously. 

“Yes.” Jeremiah nodded. 

“Okay. I can do that.” Prince Lelouch said, offering his hand to shake. 

He shook the boy’s hand firmly then felt a surge of dread shoot through him at the mark that sat on the prince’s forearm. He turned the prince’s wrist, hoping that it had only been a trick of the light. But no, it was still there. A pink, four inch scar ran up the boy’s wrist over the veins. 

Prince Lelouch tensed, which only served to make the scar stand out more against his pale skin, before jerking his hand out of Jeremiah’s grasp and shoving his sleeves back down over both of his hands. 

He hadn’t imagined that the prince’s life had been easy living amongst Elevens, but to go so far as to try to take his own life? The scars were indicative of just how deep the prince’s despair must run. And they weren’t that old. 

Jeremiah struggled to find something to say as the prince sat warily in his seat, every muscle tensed and ready to flee, as if he hadn’t expected Jeremiah to notice the scars.

“You could stay here.” He offered softly. If Lelouch’s home life was so bad that he would attempt suicide, then he was more than welcome to make himself at home here. Jeremiah would take care of everything. 

“No, I couldn’t.” The boy said quietly, though whether it was because he wasn’t allowed, or was unwilling to compromise his anonymity, Jeremiah wasn’t sure. 

He frowned, his thoughts darkening as he tried to figure out what might drive the boy to try to take his own life. His gaze landed on the dark bruise that covered the majority of the prince’s cheek and his earlier anger crystallized. 

“Did _they_ do that to you?” He growled. 

“Don’t even think it.” The prince snarled in response, lip curled back in a sneer. “Some assholes went after my brother so I stopped them long enough for him to get away.” 

He scrutinized the boy for a moment, searching for any kind of hint that he might be protecting his abuser, but there was nothing but anger at the suggestion. 

“Okay.” He sighed. Apparently the boy had a habit of throwing himself into danger for the sake of his Eleven foster family. Any lingering doubt that the prince would really carry through on his threat of sacrificing himself for the chance at saving his family dispersed. “We’ll do things as you wish.” 

For now, at least. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank's for reading. Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Beta'd by the wonderful Kasai no Kage.


	15. Folly

_Naoto squeezed his sister's hand tightly as the soldiers tromped through the house past them. Kallen was scared of them, but then again, she had good reason to be. She didn’t understand what was going on. But Naoto was older and couldn’t claim the luxury of ignorance._

_Britannia had declared war on Japan. Technically their father was now at war with their mother. This wasn’t something one of the Stadtfeld family’s enemies had missed as they’d reported to the authorities that Lord Stadtfeld was harbouring dangerous Japanese radicals in their sprawling estate. It was a lie; the only Japanese within the house were the servants and their mother._

_But whoever it was who had tipped off the soldiers had obviously paid them well. The soldiers hadn’t paid any heed to their father’s protests and had proceeded to search the house top to bottom. All of the Japanese had been rounded up in the den downstairs and even their mother hadn’t been spared the indignity._

_And their father had done nothing to stop them._

“ _What’s going to happen to Mom?” Kallen whispered. Her Britannian was slightly accented, but that was to be expected. She didn’t really use it that much._

_He squeezed her hand again and backed them further into the corner of the corridor by the door. He didn’t know what was going to happen, but he had a bad feeling. Every ounce of his body was screaming at him to take Kallen and run away, but their father had told them to stay put and not to talk to anyone._

“ _Don’t know.” He admit helplessly._

“ _They’re not going to take her away, are they?” She asked._

_He glanced down at her and noticed the tears beginning to well in her eyes. Kallen had always been a strong kid. She hardly ever cried. “Of course not.” He reassured her._

_She squeezed his hand back and nodded. “Of course they can’t.”_

_They watched as impassively as they could manage as their caretaker was forcefully dragged down the hall past them, the soldier gripping her delicate arm hard enough that it was already bruising._

“ _Grab the brats too. Half blood isn’t any better than a full on Eleven.” The soldier barked at one of his comrades as he passed._

_A younger soldier stepped forward almost immediately and reached for Kallen, thick, gloved fingers heading straight for her petite shoulder._

“ _Don’t you dare lay your filthy, low-born hands on my sister, you scum.” He said as he slapped the offending hand away with all the haughty arrogance and righteous fury he could muster as the Stadtfeld heir._

“ _Punk ass brat.” The soldier snarled before grabbing Naoto’s wrist instead and twisting it painfully._

_He grit his teeth to keep himself from crying out in pain and glared at the soldier, who glared challengingly back before using his greater strength to forcefully turn him around and clamp both of his arms behind his back._

“ _Want me to break your brother’s arm, girl?” The soldier asked with a sneer._

_He looked back over his shoulder to see Kallen watching them wide-eyed and pale as a ghost. She shook her head mutely._

“ _Then get a move on and come with me.” The soldier grunted before shoving Naoto forward and making him stumble._

_He let himself be manhandled only because Kallen was so scared. He didn’t want her to have to see him getting hurt, but if he’d been alone, he would have struggled until they’d had to knock him out or kill him._

_The soldier half pushed, half carried him into the den where the rest of the Japanese had been gathered. His father was on the phone in the corner, red-faced with this indignity as he tried to call in a favour from someone higher up the command chain than the oafs ransacking the house. He dropped the phone as soon as he caught sight of them._

“ _What the hell is the meaning of this?” Their father demanded. “My children are -”_

“ _Half bloods.” The soldier interrupted. “Ain’t no better than any other Eleven.” The man parroted his commanding officer’s sentiments._

_Their father grimaced before responding. “They aren’t. My wife is barren. We used a surrogate mother. Both of my children are biologically full-blooded Britannian.”_

_That was a lie. He couldn’t be certain about himself, but he remembered when Kallen had been born. He remembered touching his mother’s swollen belly and feeling his unborn sister kick. He remembered going with his pale and anxious father to the hospital to wait for the birth._

_Naoto glanced at his mother seated on the ottoman mere feet away, but she had averted her gaze and was staring determinedly at the ground by her feet, an embarrassed flush over her cheeks. Some of the newer servants were giving her openly surprised glances, but the older ones who remembered her pregnancies wisely remained quiet._

“ _Okaa-san isn’t our real mom?” Kallen asked, evidently heartbroken at the revelation._

_Their mother seemed to wither under the question, unable to reassure her that it wasn’t really true because of the soldier still in the room._

_Naoto shoved off the grip of the soldier, managing to get his arms free and stepped away to drag Kallen into a tight hug. He buried his face in her hair and whispered to her in soft Japanese, “It’s a lie.”_

_No one else would be able to hear his words of comfort. He sent a withering glare at his father over his sister’s shoulder. Even if their lives were in danger, there was absolutely no acceptable reason for shaming their mother like this._

“ _Fine. Keep the brats for all I care.” The soldier grumbled before turning his back on them and leaving the room in search of any more of the household help that had decided to hide the moment soldiers had forced their way onto the property._

_Still, no one moved, waiting with bated breath. It took another minute for his teenage mind to realize why. Infertility was still a grounds for divorce within Britannia and was most often cited amongst the nobility, where marriage was all about succession. Their mother hadn’t refuted the accusation when given the chance._

_With the political climate as it was, with it being undesirable to have a Japanese wife, their father could easily dissolve the marriage. Everyone was waiting to see what was going to happen next._

_Their father grit his teeth before retrieving his phone. “You two stay put.” He growled before storming out of the room without even so much as a backward glance toward their mother._

_Naoto tried to stay optimistic, but that sounded like the death knell of their marriage to him._

  
***

  
  


Naoto almost felt embarrassed as he strode through the top floor of the Wright’s office headquarters down town and everyone stood from their desks to bow to him as he passed. The Wrights might run a corporate empire now, but they still operated their day to day the same as they had their organized crime syndicate. Every interaction was determined by a measure of respect based on the rank of the person in question. 

He was a respected friend and ally of the company’s heir and they treated him as such.

He followed the secretary leading him to his friend’s office. She was blonde with a skirt short enough that it suggested it was the reason she had gained her position. She knocked on the door to Thomas’ office to announce his arrival and gave him a coy once-over and a wink after being dismissed. 

He rolled his eyes behind her back and stepped further into Thomas’ office. His friend was sitting behind his desk in his overly lavish office.

“Nathan.” Thomas greeted warmly. “My father sends his apologies that he couldn’t be here to meet with you today. He also apologizes that you have to deal with ‘his useless son’ instead.”

Naoto chuckled. “Tell him that I don’t mind at all, and that its good practice for the future once he’s kicked the bucket. That should keep him quiet for a while, right?”

Thomas grinned at him. “Yeah right. The old man would revert to the old ways just so he could leave me in a ditch somewhere.

Richard Wright, Thomas’ father, was actually pretty easy to get along with. He had always treated Naoto with a casual kind of respect that so few seemed to be able to pull off confidently. Naoto genuinely liked all of the Wrights and preferred dealing with them to much of nobility. They had traditions and expectations for respect, but they didn’t look down on everyone who didn’t fall into their social circle. 

“I brought the paperwork if you want to look over it.” He said. “Or you could just sign it and save us some time.” 

“And trust you, you mean?”  Thomas said teasingly as he held out his hand for the folder. 

Naoto shrugged. Much as this might have been marked down as an official negotiation for a joint venture, they were too close of friends and had both seen each other far too wasted to actually take this too seriously. If he had to characterize it as anything, it was nothing more than a friendly meeting on a Friday afternoon that may or may not include some work discussion. 

“Have a seat.” Thomas said, gesturing toward the comfortable leather armchair across from his desk. “I’m going to drag this out as long as I can to avoid going over the budget afterwards.” 

“Fair enough.” Naoto responded. He wasn’t in a big rush to get back to the office anyway and Thomas was always good company. He flopped into the chair, abandoning all of the grace and poise that had been ground him since he was a child.

Thomas seated himself back behind his desk and flipped open the folder, beginning to read through the proposed deal. “So what’s up with you?” He asked, not looking up from the documents in front of him. 

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve seemed a little . . . I dunno, down, maybe?” Thomas said. 

“Mm.” He said noncommittally. 

He was actually guilt-ridden. The timing was too convenient for it to have been a coincidence. Lelouch had ordered him to get something concrete that they could use on Gottwald and he’d been unable to comply. The bastard had turned down his invitation for a group skiing excursion citing the excuse of work and Nathan had been unable to make further contact lest he be caught in the lie.

He wasn’t naive enough to believe that the riots that had broken out all around the country not even twenty-four hours after his failure was a coincidence. All of these deaths going on around the country were his fault. Because he hadn’t been able to do his job. 

“So what’s up?” Thomas asked again. 

“I just . . . know some people who died in the chaos out there.” He said vaguely, gesturing toward the floor to ceiling window that backed Thomas’ office. It overlooked the Central Plaza and the Viceroy’s Palace, where the rubble of one of the wings had yet to be cleared away.

“Sorry, man, that sucks. It’s fucking crazy out there.” His friend said, glancing up from his paperwork. “Oh, speaking of those riots, I met your sister.” 

Naoto tensed, every muscle in his body going rigid. “What do you mean?” He demanded sharply, his mind automatically jumping to the worst two possibilities. Either she was out there rioting, or she’d been caught up in this whole mess. He would never be able to forgive himself if she was hurt because of his own failures. 

“Just what I said, I met her.” Thomas said. He was enjoying having the upper hand at the moment, so Naoto scowled at him. 

“Where? How? Was she okay?” 

“She was fine, more or less. Some Elevens tried to grab her in the chaos after the bombing of the Viceroy’s Palace. She sidled up next to my old man to get him to scare them off then we made sure she got on the train and saw her to her stop.” Thomas finally relented. 

Naoto breathed a sigh of relief and slumped back in his chair. She was safe. She was fine. Stupid for wandering around by herself, but he didn’t care about that so long as she wasn’t hurt. 

“Thanks for letting me know.” He said after a moment. 

“Mm.” Thomas said distractedly, already gone back to reading over the document in front of him. “But speaking of your sister, she really has a hate on for you, doesn’t she?”

Naoto frowned, brows furrowing as he wondered just what he was supposed to say to something like that. “What makes you say that?” He asked, because simply admitting that it was true bothered him. She just didn’t understand what he was doing, and he wasn’t at liberty to explain it to her. 

“She refused to even acknowledge that she was related to you.” Thomas revealed. 

“Well, maybe you got the wrong girl?” He suggested. 

“There are many teenage girls named Kallen that have the same face as you, are there?” His friend teased. 

Naoto sighed. “I will admit that we are not on the best of terms.” 

“You should go see her. Talk it out.” Thomas suggested. “A girl like her milling around the middle of a protest full of angry Elevens? That’s a cry for help if I’ve ever heard one.” 

Naoto thought about it for a moment. When was the last time he’d actually seen her face to face? Half a year? More? He couldn’t even remember. At some point it had just gotten easier to give up on trying to fix things between them or make things go back to the way they used to be. It had gotten a hell of a lot easier to just get Sophie to send her gifts to let her know that he still loved her. 

Kallen liked to fight. She had always liked to fight, to argue. She liked being right. And it was too tiring trying to argue with her every time he saw her when he knew that he actually agreed with her about pretty much everything she said. 

“You’re probably right.” Naoto said. “Did she say what she was doing at the protest?” 

“She was there with a friend. I guess they got separated.” 

Naoto felt himself go cold again. A friend? And just what kind of friend was this supposed to be? An Eleven? One of the protesters? Worse, one of the terrorists who had planted those bombs? 

“I won’t say anything.” Thomas said after a long moment of silence. “Regardless of who she was meeting with, the secret is safe with me.”

Naoto glanced up at the man on the other side of the desk and noted the sharp cunning veiled behind the chocolate gaze. This was the son of a man who had once held the entire seedy underbelly of the Empire in his hand. This was a man who had been raised to inherit that legacy. Naoto had made a grave miscalculation by appearing so blasé before him. 

It was a token gesture; a warning. It revealed that Thomas had dirt on him that he could use, but was choosing not to. At least their friendship counted for that much. 

“In ten years.” Thomas said. “In ten years, it will be you and I at the top of this ragged country, Nathan. None of the others have your smarts or your subtle hand. You’re always manipulating someone when I see you. I like that. And I need it. So you make far too good of a friend to make into an enemy.” 

Thomas had leverage over him now. It was a tenuous grip, an unconfirmed rumour that his sister had been involved in the bombing of the Viceroy’s Palace, but if anyone ever found out that they were only half-Britannian, it would carry a lot more weight. 

Lucky for Naoto, he had dirt on Thomas too. Lucky that his influence reached so far and that he had Lelouch as a contact within the Japanese Intelligence Division. Without it, he might never have been able to find out just which shady syndicate had been recruiting desperate Elevens left and right for risky jobs that were definitely on the wrong side of the law. 

Richard Wright would probably flay is only son alive if he found out that Thomas had been dealing in businesses their family had officially pulled out of almost a decade ago. 

For now, they were merely posturing and Thomas had made the first move. The ball was in his court. How should he play this? Should he keep his head down or apply pressure?

“I’m glad I have such good friends, Thomas.” He said with a slow, creeping smile. “You and me? In ten years, huh? I’m up for it. But let’s make it five years. If, of course, you think you’ll be able to keep up?”

Thomas’ eyes narrowed suspiciously at the challenge. “And what exactly is it that you want us to have accomplished in five years time?” He asked calmly. 

“I’m going to take over Stadtfeld Industries and expand into every Area. And you? Why don’t we see if you can do the same in my shadow? Why don’t we see if you can reclaim the Wright legacy and restore it to its former glory?” He suggested. 

Thomas stilled and they both watched each other like two predators that had mistakenly stumbled into each other’s territory. 

“How much do you know?” Thomas demanded. 

“About what?” He asked innocently, though a knowing smirk crept across his lips.

Thomas frowned, scrutinizing him closely. “Now, I like you, Nathan -” He began. 

Naoto cut him off before he could get too far into whatever he was going to say next. “And I like you, Thomas. But if you ever make veiled threats toward my sister again, that will change and it won’t be pretty. I hope you understand.” 

“If you ever tell anyone what you know about me, your sister will be the least of your concerns.” Thomas replied evenly, not breaking eye contact. 

Naoto smiled serenely and leaned back in his chair, resuming his nonchalant posture. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He said. “So how about we get back to the business at hand and the first big step in our five year plans?” He said, gesturing toward the document on the desk between them. 

Thomas picked up his pen with thinly veiled reluctance and flipped to the last page before bestowing the document with his signature. “I’ll look forward to working with you, Lord Stadtfeld.” He said formally before flipping the document Naoto’s way. 

“I feel the same way, Mr. Wright.” Naoto replied before adding his signature to the page next to his friend’s. “Let’s hope that this leads to a long and mutually beneficial partnership between our two businesses.”

He’d lost an easy friendship here today, but he’d gained a wary ally who wouldn’t look too closely at his more unconventional moves in its place. Only time would tell if it would be worth the trade. 

  
***

  
  


Kallen had always hated this class. Social Studies. It was supposed to be an examination of modern society. Most days, the teacher just preached to them about Britannian governmental policy and the Emperor’s view of an ideal world; namely one in which only pure-blooded Britannians held any power.  

But today she didn’t mind it as much. Today was the last Friday of the month, so they were doing a write up about current events. It was giving her all the excuse she needed to scour the newspapers for any mention of Gin. 

She hadn’t been able to contact him since their last disastrous meeting and she had no idea how to go about finding out if he’d been one of the protesters that had been killed during the bombing of the Viceroy’s Palace. 

She hadn’t found out until she’d gotten home later that night that the entire front of the Viceroy’s Palace had been reduced to nothing but rubble, and that the soldiers that had been stationed around the plaza had opened fire into the crowd of protesters after the explosion. The situation had devolved into a full on skirmish when illegal weapons had been dispersed amongst the crowd and the Elevens had fought back for the first time on Honshu in three years.

Her gaze skimmed over the page in front of her, the grainy colour photo of hundreds of body bags laid across Central Plaza capturing her attention. Was Gin in one of those?

How could she be certain short of going to his house in Shinjuku? Providing she could even find it in that maze of ruins. And provided she didn’t get killed by a mob of angry Japanese on the way. 

No. That was a stupid idea. She’d learned her lesson after the last time. Besides, even if she found him, he’d just reprimand her for being careless again. 

She heaved a heavy sigh and Milly elbowed her gently in the ribs. “Still haven’t heard from him, huh?” 

She shook her head mutely and began writing out her assignment for the class about some revolutionary new piece of equipment that was supposed to improve heart surgery recovery rates by fifty percent. She refused to jump on the band wagon and write about the savage Elevens pillaging through the streets.

“I’m sure he’s fine.” Milly said quietly. “He seemed like a pretty resilient kind of guy.” 

Kallen frowned. Well, Gin did have that going for him. He seemed pretty street savvy and a good judge of the situation. And, from what she’d seen of him, he was the type to try to avoid trouble when he could. She couldn't really imagine him involved in the bombing at all. 

Maybe he’d made his escape as soon as he’d sent her on her way. It was possible, and if he’d taken another exit he probably would have been able to get out of there before she had. That was probably what had happened, she reassured herself. 

She was drawn out of her worries by the teacher clapping her hands together at the front of the room. “So, since it’s a Friday and, judging by how much all of you are talking, you seem to all be done the assignment early, I thought we’d do something different for the last half of the class. We’re going to have a debate. I’m going to split you all into two groups and give you ten minutes to talk about and come up for an argument for or against these new registration laws and their effect on the state of the country today, then we’ll debate about it.”

Kallen frowned and waited as the class was split into two groups. She was put into Group A, the group that would be arguing in favour of the registration laws. 

“Ugh, I don’t want to be in Group B.” One of her classmates, a girl named Hannah who sat in the row next to her, said with evident disgust. 

“Trade you.” She offered halfheartedly. 

“Really?” Hannah said in surprise. “Sweet, yeah.” 

Milly caught her eye as she made her way over to where Group B was congregating. She looked worried. Okay, so maybe volunteering to speak on the side of Elevens wasn’t the smartest idea considering who and what she was, but she couldn't really picture herself voicing her support for the registration laws even if it was just for a class. 

Her teacher sent her a disapproving frown when she realized she’d switched teams, but thankfully didn’t make a big deal about it. She took a seat next to Shirley who had had been placed in the same group and waited for the rest of their people to gather. A couple boys she didn’t really talk to and a clique of girls. All of them sheep who would refuse to really take a stand. 

“Alright, class, you have ten minutes to come up with your arguments. Remember, Group A will be arguing in support of the registration laws and Group B will be arguing against them.” Their teacher called over the noise that automatically came with any group project. 

And then nothing. 

No one moved. No one spoke. There was a tangible reluctance to even give their assignment any thought. 

“This sucks so hard.” The guy across from her sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against a desk. “I’m not going to support those bastard Elevens. One of them punched my girlfriend last week. If you ask me, just registering them isn’t going far enough. Put them all down.” 

There were murmurs of agreement from the rest of her group. Kallen managed to hold her tongue, staring down at her hands clasped on the desk in front of her. 

“The teacher’s going to be pissed if we don’t come up with anything.” One of the girls said. “You know she’s notorious for detentions and I have a date tonight that I absolutely can’t miss. So one of you come up with something. And we need to decide who’s going to be our spokesperson.”

Again there was a moment of tangible reluctance. The silence dragged on while each of her group members tried to simultaneously avoid attention and eye the other members of the group.  

“I’ll do it.” Kallen said lazily. As if she’d have been willing to let any of these idiots argue on the behalf of the Japanese anyway. 

The entire group let out a collective sigh of relief. “Thanks, Kallen. It’s great having the smartest girl in our grade in our group.” The guy who had first complained about their assignment said with a smile. 

“Not to mention she’s a babe.” One of the other guys behind him muttered under his breath not quite softly enough that she couldn’t hear it, earning chuckles from the other boys nearby. 

She ignored them, glancing back across the room to where Group A was in the middle of a lively discussion. Milly was, surprisingly, sitting this one out as she sat on the periphery of her group and kept sending Kallen worried glances. 

She couldn’t help but wonder if Milly had always been so blatant in her concern when charged topics like this had come up in class and that she’d just never noticed, or if this was something new. 

Someone started talking about a new movie that had just come out despite Shirley’s protests that they should all help her come up with their argument. 

“It’s fine, Shirley.” She said when no one listened to the swimmer. 

“It’s not fine. You shouldn’t have to do the work for all of us.” 

It wasn’t really work. She was going to get the rare opportunity to publicly speak her mind without having to censor herself. Really, it was more of a luxury than anything else. 

“I’m telling you, it was lame. I don’t care how many stars it got, the acting sucked and the story was dumb.” One of the guys in her group said, still complaining about the movie the girls had liked. “I almost wanted to ask for my money back, but I didn’t -”

“ _Okay!”_ The teacher said with forced enthusiasm to show her displeasure at their lack of appropriate discussion. “Time’s up. Each of you choose a spokesperson to present your arguments.”

Kallen stood from her seat and stepped forward so that she was in the empty space between the two groups. The other group argued quietly amongst themselves. It looked like they were waiting for Milly to step up and volunteer, but from the way that the blonde had her arms crossed over her chest, Kallen could tell that it wasn’t going to happen. 

After another prod from the teacher, one of the other girls in the group heaved a sigh and stepped forward. Her name was Marissa Ashford, and Kallen didn’t like her. 

Her opponent was tall and curvaceous, with long blonde hair that curled into nice waves that Kallen could only ever dream of possessing. Marissa also liked to act that she was best friends with Milly, or that the fact that they had the same last name, even though they weren’t at all related, meant that she was something special at this school. Kallen had overheard the blonde once using her last name to get a group of underclassmen to do her bidding. 

In addition to all of that, Marissa was stupid. She wasn’t _dumb_. Not academically, at least, but she was the kind of girl that would act like a bimbo because she thought it would attract guys. And hey, maybe it worked, since Marissa always seemed to have a boyfriend, but Kallen couldn’t respect or even pretend to befriend someone so shallow. 

She was a social climber. A parasite. Someone who would do anything to be popular. Kallen didn’t know how she was supposed to actually debate against someone like her. 

“Alright, Marissa, how about you go first?” The teacher suggested. 

Marissa nodded then sent a flirtatious smile to one of the boys in Kallen’s group before beginning. “Okay, well, um, we said that the laws should go ahead because the Elevens obviously need to be controlled. This rioting just proves the fact. And no one complains when you keep a close watch on an angry dog that might bite, so . . . yeah, that was our argument.” She finished, her tone getting high and cutesy at the end. 

Kallen took a deep breath, let it out slowly, then responded. “The proposed registration laws exhibit a blatant disregard for human rights that ought to be inalienable for every member of our species. They are heinous in the very idea behind them. Of course, it doesn’t help that the Viceroy has refused to release any official information on the proposed laws. There are rumours ranging from ‘mild’ acts of registration, such as identification cards or wrist bands, to things as extreme as cattle brands and forced containment. You cannot tell me that, should the proposed laws have suggested that every person in Area Eleven be subject to this new legislation, that you wouldn’t be just as upset with our governing body.

“I’m not condoning the riots or the violent acts taking place on the streets, but the Empire has refused to give Numbers a voice with which they could express their displeasure and be taken seriously so -” 

“Of course they don’t get a voice in our government.” Marissa interrupted. “Elevens are dumb as animals. You don’t let your pet make the house rules, do you?” 

Kallen wouldn’t know, she’d never had a pet but the argument pissed her off all the same. “I’d like to point out that pre-invasion Japan had the highest standardized test results in the world. Their students vastly outstripped the academic achievements of Britannian students at the same time.” 

“Psh, I don’t believe that.” Marissa snorted. “Elevens are dumb as dumb can get. All of them. They’re animals that need a firm hand and they’re lucky that Britannia felt up to the job of modernizing them.”

Lucky. She almost wanted to laugh. The Japanese were lucky? Lucky that Britannia had invaded their country, impoverished their people and destroyed their culture?

And what the hell were her classmates learning about pre-war Japan? Britannia was modernizing them? Japan had been a modern, fully functioning, self-sufficient nation before Britannia had ever decided to meddle. In fact, they’d been leading the race in a number of fields. 

She hated this kind of Britannian stupidity. She hated the way they never wanted the real facts, they just wanted what the Britannian propaganda machine force fed them. This was exactly the reason she’d asked Gin to take her into the ghettos - so that she could see the truth with her own eyes. 

And she had seen it. She was the only one in this entire room full of ignorant bigots that had seen with her own eyes just what the Japanese had to go through every day. 

She grew angry at the thought of Gin and everything he put up with from close-minded sheep like Marissa. Smart Gin. Gin, who wanted to be a lawyer. There was something unfair about it, something _wrong_ , when someone like Gin could be put down by some idiot like Marissa. 

“Please give me some proof for your claim about the Eleven’s lack of intelligence.” She said, but her tone had gone icy. Really, she wanted to call the girl a stupid bitch, but they were in the middle of a debate so she was trying to remain somewhat professional. 

“Oh, _come on,_ Kallen. Have you ever met a smart one? Have you ever even seen one that didn’t look more pathetic than a dog in the pound?” Marissa cajoled, as if getting Kallen to admit to such a thing would automatically win her the debate. 

“I have.” She sneered, eyes narrowing into a glare as a red hot spike of rage rushed through her. “You’re looking right at one.”

There was a moment of silence as Marissa and everyone else in the class tried to parse the meaning of her words. Then pandemonium broke out. 

“What the hell do you mean you -” Marissa squawked, but the rest of whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the rising volume of her classmates’ shock and outrage. Slurs and jeers erupted almost immediately.   

Milly was up and out of her seat, halfway across the room toward her when a pen flew past Kallen, mere millimetres from striking her in the face. It collided with the white board at the front of the room hard enough to leave a dent in it. 

“David! What the hell are you doing? That could have really hurt her!” Shirley shouted. 

David. The guy who’s girlfriend had been assaulted. The guy who thought that all Elevens should be killed regardless of guilt or innocence. 

“Who cares? She just said she was a fucking Number, didn’t she?” 

She turned to look at him, he looked pissed, his eyes narrowed into a squinty glare and his cheeks flushed. His shoulders were bunched up, tensed, like he was thinking of diving across the space between them and punching her lights out. 

“Tsk tsk, assaulting the nobility. I would have thought you’d know better.” She said with disdain.

“Don’t you look down on me, you half-breed bitch.” He snarled in response. 

“ _Enough!”_ The teacher bellowed over the rising volume of the classroom, finally able to restore order. “All of you, back to your desks.”

Milly and Shirley both grabbed her hands, as if letting go would sic the mob on her again. She squeezed them both, surprised by Shirley’s support even despite her heritage. 

“Now!” The teacher ordered again and they reluctantly separated ways, she and Milly heading toward one side of the room, Shirley to the other. “Not you, Miss Stadtfeld.” 

The teacher grabbed her arm, manicured fake nails digging into the flesh as she was dragged towards the front of the room. “Read pages fifty-five to seventy in your textbooks until the bell rings.” She snapped to the rest of the class, before dragging Kallen out of the room and toward the principal’s office. 

She didn’t resist even though it kind of hurt. There was no point in digging herself into an even bigger hole. 

When they got to the office, she was forced into a chair in the outer room. “Wait there.” The woman sneered with none of the veiled respect and awe at her nobility that she was used to from all of her teachers. 

She laughed under her breath. It was so stupid. All of this was. 

Without further ado, her teacher stormed into the principal’s sanctum and slammed the door behind her. She heard raised voices, the outraged upset tone of a woman, and the lower rumble of the man trying to placate her. 

Milly’s grandpa had always liked her. And she’d always like him. Even though he was the principal he was always pretty laid back. That went for both at school and at home. 

So she wasn’t worried. At least not until she started catching snippets of what her teacher was saying, muffled as they were. Something about expulsion. Something about scholarships. Something about valedictorian. 

Shit. 

But her heritage was already in her school records. That was how Milly had found out about it in the first place. They couldn’t expel her and take away her scholarships just for that when they had to already know about it. And she’d _earned_ her place as valedictorian. She didn’t really care about all of the hype that went with it, but she wanted it on her permanent records because it was something that would be taken into consideration by her university. The university she still only had tentative acceptance to based on her grades from the first semester. 

Would they really take it all away from her just because she had admitted to being half-Japanese? 

And if they did, if the university rejected her because of this, then what would she do? She was so close to graduating, so close to turning her life around. Eight weeks. Eight measly weeks until graduation and the day that she could escape her step-mother’s grasp. 

If she couldn’t go to university, then what? What else could she even do? Take off and pick up a part time job? Hope that she could manage to afford a place to live away from the influence of her parents? And could she even get a place if she needed references? How permanent would this mark be? 

She fretted, suddenly deciding that she’d probably been too hasty. She should have stuck it out for another eight weeks. Should have bit her tongue and just tolerated her classmates and their ignorance. 

Those thoughts were compounded all the more when the door to the outer office slammed open and her step-mother was there. Judging by the furious glare the woman gave her, she’d already heard everything she needed to about the situation. 

They’d called her house. They’d called her step-mother and told her that Kallen had come out as half-Japanese.

Suddenly all of her worries about her future after graduation fled. She’d be lucky to have a future at all. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked. The upcoming chapters will get more Lelouch-y, but this one and the next are all about the Stadtfelds. 
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment and let me know what you think. :)
> 
> Allora


	16. Exodus

_Kallen opened the door and froze, staring at her brother in shock. He stared back just as surprised. Technically speaking, it wasn't proper for her to answer the door when someone came to call at the Stadtfeld estate, but she'd been walking past on her way to the kitchen. So she supposed his surprise was justified._

_So, however, was hers. Naoto had stormed out of the house a week ago and she'd been sure that he would never show his face here again. Sure that he'd finally escaped and severed his tie to the Stadtfelds once and for all. She'd been cheering for him ever since and putting her mind to how she could possibly follow his example without being a burden to him._

_"What are you doing here?" She asked in surprise._

_"Kallen . . ." He said awkwardly, as if he wished anyone else would have answered the door. "Is Father here?"_

_She frowned. "Why? What do you want to talk to him for?"_

_"Indeed." A voice interrupted behind her. "What do you want to talk to me for? I'm sure you said everything you needed to before you stormed out of this house last week."_

_Kallen glanced over her shoulder to find their father standing in the foyer behind her. He didn't look overly hostile, nowhere near as furious as he had been when Naoto had left, but he was definitely not pleased. It was the kind of disappointment she was familiar with from the man. The hard frown and annoyed eyes that had haunted her whenever she'd thrown a tantrum as a child._

_Naoto grimaced and dropped his gaze, staring at his feet for a moment before taking in a shaky breath. "You were right." He said with a mirthless laugh. "About everything. I'm a Stadtfeld through and through and this is where I belong. I'm sorry for everything I said before."_

_Kallen took a step back from him, not even daring to believe her ears. He wasn't really taking back everything he'd said, was he? He'd been saying the same kinds of things for years before the inevitable fight he'd had with their father._

_Their father sighed and stepped forward, taking her place in front of Naoto. He reached out, grabbing her brother's chin to tilt his face up. Only then did she notice the faded greenish-yellow bruise on Naoto's jaw. "Not as warm of a welcome as you'd wished for?"_

_Naoto snorted mirthlessly. "Not by far. The fucking heathens jumped me even after they knew my blood status."_

_Kallen felt her world shrinking. What had happened to her brother? What had happened to the man she'd practically idolized all her life? He wasn't this much of a coward. He would never have called the Japanese heathens. So who the hell was this stranger wearing his face?_

_She shook her head silently and took another step back before turning and storming up the stairs to her room. She slammed her door behind her, blocking out the sound of the men in her family salvaging their relationship. She locked her door behind her before throwing herself on her bed. She'd never felt so betrayed._

  
***

  
  


Naoto stared up at the door of the Stadtfeld estate with mixed feelings. On the one hand, this was the home he’d grown up in. On the other, he hated seeing what his family had been reduced to. And he hated the woman who had taken his mother’s place. Not that he’d ever let her know that. 

And not that he would have to deal with her tonight. The Lord and Lady Stadtfeld were currently being entertained by a duke back in Pendragon. He’d seen them off at the airport before coming over here. Much as Thomas may have pissed him off during their last meeting, he had been right about one thing. He did need to talk to his sister, and it was better to do that where their step-mother couldn’t reprimand Kallen for yelling at him. 

He used his copy of the house key to unlock the door, unwilling to bother one of the servants just to let him in, and stepped over the threshold before freezing. Kallen was on the other side of the foyer, eyes widened in shock and fear as she stumbled back a step, supported by one of the younger maids. Their biological mother followed behind them, carrying an icepack and a first aid kit.

Then Kallen’s eyes narrowed and her lip curled up into a snarl. “What do you want? Here to express your displeasure with me too?” 

Naoto didn’t respond; he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to her and his entire body had gone numb with horror. Her face was battered so badly her left eye was almost swollen shut. Her lower lip was split and purple bruising marred her skin. There were scratch marks that had broken through the skin, leaving red gouges down her arms and across her collar bone, and she was walking with a limp, supported by a maid named Alice. 

But none of that was the worst, and his eyes refused to leave the ring of dark bruises and scratches that circled her throat. She’d been choked. Beaten and strangled. Someone had tried to kill her. 

His shock and horror morphed in to blind fury as his eyes narrowed into a glare. Kallen took another shuffling little hop back away from him. “Who did this to you?” He demanded. His entire body was humming with suppressed violence. He was going to kill the son of a bitch who had laid hands on his sister. Thomas had said she was unharmed, but she’d obviously gotten into trouble since then. 

“Why the fuck do you care?” She hissed in response.

“Don’t argue, just tell me. Who the fuck did this?” He snapped. She only sneered at him in response. And it was only then that he realized that both his mother and Alice had averted their gazes so that they could pretend that he wasn’t asking the question of them as well. 

Any other time, they should have answered the question for her. They should have been out for their mistress’ attacker’s blood just as much as he was. Instead, they were remaining silent. Protecting the person who had battered Kallen to this state. Even though Kallen was the daughter of one of them, and even though Alice had always doted on Kallen like she was her older sister. 

He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat as he realized the answer. Realized why none of them would answer him. Because the person who had done this to her ranked higher than him. And there were only two possibilities for that. 

He was sure his heart stuttered to a stop as his guilt and horror doused his previous fury. The fight went out of him. “How long?” He asked quietly. 

How long had this been going on for? How long had she been suffering like this while he’d remained blindly oblivious to her pain, so focused on his own shit that he didn’t even notice that his sister was being abused? Or was this the first time? 

“It’s none of your business, so get out.” Kallen snarled. 

That doused whatever hope he’d had of this being a first offence. Even if it had been, it was inexcusable.

He crossed the space between them in three wide steps and raised his hand to pull her into a hug. She flinched and closed her eyes, as if awaiting another blow. “You idiot.” He breathed as he slowly pulled her into a hug. She didn’t relax into it. She stood awkwardly with every muscle tensed across her back and shoulders like she was prepared to jump away at a moment’s notice. 

That hurt more than anything. That she didn’t even trust him enough not to hurt her. That she thought so little of him. But that was his fault, not hers. He was the one who had destroyed their relationship to this point. 

He glared at their mother over her shoulder. “Why didn’t you stop this?” He growled. 

She fidgeted nervously before averting her gaze. “What do you expect me to do?” She asked helplessly. 

“I expected you to protect her.” He snarled in response. Their mother flinched and wilted a little more. 

He sighed and shooed the other maid away, taking over supporting Kallen’s weight as he began leading her toward the stairs up to her room. 

“Let go of me.” She growled, reaching for Alice again. 

He lifted her up instead, carrying her bridal style up the stairs against her protests. When he got to her room and saw the absolute mess it was in, he knew that this was where the fight had taken place. He deposited her on the bed before moving directly to her closet. He found an old duffel bag stuffed in the bottom corner and shook it open before he began stuffing clothes into it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” she demanded, hobbling over to him to snatch a dress out of his hands. 

“Packing your shit. I’m getting you out of here. If there’s anything else you want to bring, just let me know.” He answered before abandoning the dress and moving onto the next row. He caught sight of denim hidden in the corner and pulled it down, tossing the jeans at her. “Change into these.” 

She stood motionlessly for a moment, fingers curled into the fabric so tightly her knuckles had turned white. “I’m not moving in with you, asshole. I don’t want anything to do with you, you god damned traitor. I’ve told you that before.” 

“This is non-negotiable. I’m not leaving you here.” He replied. The insults didn’t faze him. They weren’t anything he hadn’t heard before. “I’ll carry you out of here kicking and screaming if I have to.” 

She must have believed him, because she let out a sigh of defeat. “She’ll find me, you know. You don’t think she’ll check to see if I’m at your place? And then it will get worse.” 

How it could get worse than the bitch trying to strangle her to death, Naoto didn’t know, but he swore he wouldn’t let it happen. If taking her to his apartment was out of the question, then he’d take her out of the country. He’d take her somewhere no one would be able to find her. 

“Trust me.” He said softly. 

She didn’t say anything, but grabbed a shirt from his hands before she hobbled away. He heard her close the door to her ensuite bathroom to change. A few minutes later she re-emerged in jeans and a sweater, carrying a toiletry bag.

He took it from her and forced it into the bag before wrestling the zipper shut and slinging it over his shoulder. He reached to pick her up again, but she shrugged out of his grip. 

“I can walk, you know.” She said sullenly before shouldering past him. He settled for walking beside her, ready to catch her if she fell or needed his support. 

They returned to the foyer where she slipped into her shoes. Naoto snatched the icepack and the first aid kit from their mother before glaring at both Alice and the woman that had birthed them. 

“You never saw her leave and I never came here, got it?” He snarled. 

They both nodded mutely but the relief on their faces was evident enough for all to see. Either they were happy that Kallen was getting out of there or just happy that they wouldn’t have to take the blame for her disappearance. He preferred to think it was the former, but he’d lost all faith in his mother and he didn’t really know Alice well enough to judge. 

He led his sister to the car and tossed her bag in the trunk next to his own emergency duffel. Ever since he’d started spying for the Japanese, he’d kept a bag with a couple changes of clothes, a fake ID and enough cash to last a year in his car. If he’d ever been found out, he’d been prepared to run at a moment’s notice.

Kallen was in the passenger’s seat when he got into the car. She was strapped in and had her arms crossed over her chest as she looked out the window to show that she wasn’t pleased and was only going with him under duress. He shook his head, but didn’t say anything as he pulled out of the driveway. 

He waited until he was a couple streets away before he pulled out his phone and dialled a number from memory. His contact answered on the second ring but didn’t speak. 

“Where and when are they leaving tonight?” He asked. 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line as he knew his voice print was being analyzed to identify him. He waited patiently, focusing on the traffic around them and making sure they weren’t being followed. It was far too early for anyone to be pursuing them, but it was a habit he’d picked up over the last couple years. 

“Confirm, Lord Lorraine.” 

“ _Noblesse oblige.”_ He responded. 

“Charon will be leaving from Tokushima at midnight. Urshanabi will be leaving from Tokyo in one hour.” The man on the other end of the phone answered. 

Naoto glanced down at the clock on the car’s console. The boat would be leaving at eight thirty. It would take him approximately an hour and a half to get through traffic to the harbour if he was lucky and they weren’t delayed. 

“Tell Urshanabi to wait for me and I’ll pay him triple his fare.”

There was another moment of silence on the other end of the line before the man spoke again. “The message has been sent and Urshanabi has replied in the affirmative. He will wait.” 

“Thank you.” He said quickly before hanging up the phone. 

Kallen gave him a suspicious glance, but was apparently trying a new tactic and giving him the silent treatment. That was fine by him. He needed time to think, anyway.  

This pissed him off, especially after issuing his challenge to Thomas just earlier this afternoon, but there was no way he would just abandon Kallen. He’d do anything and give up everything if it meant keeping her safe. But before he could do that, he needed to tie up some loose ends. 

And those loose ends lived in Sapporo.

The sun had already set by the time they got to the harbour and they were a good forty-five minutes late, but he didn’t let that stop him as he parked the car and retrieved their bags. 

Kallen glanced between the boat and Naoto a few times before sighing. “Okay, now I have to ask. Just where the hell do you think you’re taking me, you bastard?” She growled. 

She was still limping, and the icepack she’d had on her ankle had already fully thawed. She held it uselessly between her fingers as she hobbled her way out of the car. He took it from her and stuffed it in his jacket pocket before looping her arm over his shoulder and helping her walk. 

He watched her out of the corner of his eye for a moment, debating on how much to tell her. But things were about to get pretty self-explanatory in a moment, so there was no harm in at least this much. “North.” He answered quietly. 

She startled, glancing at him sharply. “What?” She demanded, but he shook his head and quietly shushed her as a hulking Japanese man approached them. 

“You’re holding us up.” Kenji called, scrutinizing Kallen’s injuries and sending Naoto a suspicious glance. 

Naoto glared and held out a fistful of cash for the man. “That’s why I’m paying you.” He growled before shouldering his way past the man and helping Kallen onto the boat. 

He got her settled onto one of the various crates that had been stacked up on the deck to serve as makeshift seating then stood guard at the railing beside her, watching as Kenji got his crew roused and the boat out on the water. It was a long time before either of them spoke. 

“What’s north?” Kallen eventually asked, arms wrapped around her good knee as she rested her injured ankle out in front of her.

He glanced down at her and noticed she was shivering. Stubborn brat couldn’t just tell him she was cold. He sighed and stripped off his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders. “A person I know.” He answered. 

“Well that was an informative answer.” She grumbled. 

He held his peace for a few moments before nodding his head toward her, “Why’d she do it? Not that it was in any way deserved, but something set her off, right?” 

He still almost couldn’t believe that their step-mother had done this to Kallen. Especially since the bitch had had the gall to act like nothing had happened as she’d kissed his cheek before he’d seen her off on the plane. He ran his mind over that memory again, trying to pick out details he’d dismissed as unimportant the first time. Had she been injured at all? Had there been any evidence at all that she’d just tried to kill her step-daughter?

He’d noticed that the woman’s manicure had been a little messed up, a few of the nails chipped or broken, but he’d dismissed it. He didn’t really care about women’s nail polish. Now he wondered if he’d deigned to comment on it if she’d have admit to her crimes. He doubted it, and even if she had it probably would have been worse than if she’d lied about it. If she’d lied about it, it would have meant that she’d at least acknowledged that she was doing something wrong. 

“None of your business.” She grumbled, though it lacked a lot of her earlier venom. She was tired. She was probably coming down from the adrenaline rush from her brush with death and crashing fast. 

He sighed again and smoothed her hair down a little. “Get some rest. You’re safe. I promise.”

“Your promises aren’t worth shit.” She replied, but she dutifully closed her eyes. He wasn’t sure if she slept or if she was just resting with her eyes closed so she would have an excuse to not talk to him anymore. 

She was probably in a lot of pain as well. He was going to have to take her to a hospital to make sure there was only superficial damage to her. He’d have gone there already if he hadn’t thought it would create too much of a trail for them. Their father would be after her the moment he realized she was gone; he’d invested too much in his children to just let one of them go. Even when he’d run away years ago, he’d found himself dodging their father’s security people until he’d found his way to Hokkaido.

It was a few hours before they landed on the northern island in some small town an hour away from Sapporo. A car was waiting when they made their way off the boat, a Britannian man in a baseball cap leaning against the hood of it with his arms crossed over his chest and a cigarette hanging from his mouth. 

Naoto had never met the man before, but he knew better than to seem surprised that Lelouch already knew he was coming. His contact or Kenji had probably called him in advance, keeping his handler apprised of his movements. The driver flagged them over as they approached before pushing off the car to open the back door for them. 

He helped Kallen into the car before giving the driver another once over. “I need to see Lelouch-sama.” He said quietly. 

The man smirked. “Oh, trust me, he wants to see you too. Get in.” 

Naoto nodded and got in next to his sister, frowning at the hinted threat. Of course, he knew he was going to have to face an inquisition when he got there. He had effectively abandoned his post and put his cover in jeopardy. But as he was planning on resigning and fleeing the country, that hardly mattered. 

“Your friend is kind of quiet.” Kallen said after a few minutes of silence.

Before he could respond, the driver chuckled. “I can talk if you want, girl. What happened to you? Too much talking and not enough listening?” The man asked, as if her state were no big deal. Naoto felt his fingers curl into a fist as he refrained from punching the man and potentially killing them all when he lost control of the vehicle. 

Kallen ignored the barb. “What’s your name?” She asked instead. 

There was a half second pause that would have remained unnoticed to anyone else. “Daniel.” The man answered. It was an obvious alias. 

“How do you know my brother?” She asked. 

“Well aren’t you full of questions tonight?” Daniel deflected. 

“You said you’d talk, so talk.” She retorted. 

“This wasn’t quite what I had in mind.” The driver replied. 

“Just answer the question.” Kallen sighed, rolling her eyes. 

“Fine.” Daniel said and Naoto felt himself tensing, wondering what lie the man would utter next and expect him to corroborate. “I don’t know him at all. But he knows my employer.” 

Kallen frowned and shot him an accusing glare, as if asking if they really had just gotten into a car with a stranger. He nodded in response and settled back into the seat, beginning to mentally form his defence for the upcoming meeting. Kallen continued glaring, her earlier nap doing nothing to better her mood. Eventually Daniel began waxing poetic about his favourite baseball team, listing stats and rehashing old championship games. 

It was just over an hour before the car turned into a heavily guarded driveway and stopped at a checkpoint. “I’ve got Lord Lorraine and a plus one in the back. They’re expected.” Daniel informed the guard at the gate, who promptly aimed his flashlight right at their faces, temporarily blinding them. 

Naoto frowned. He’d originally thought Daniel was just some minor peon sent to pick up an anonymous agent, but he had access to Naoto’s moniker and it was unlikely that kind of information would have been shared with anyone without a high level security clearance. It meant that Daniel was likely an elite agent himself. 

He didn’t have enough time to ponder the fact or its implications before they were being ushered out of the car. Kallen’s ankle had gone stiff and she was obviously in a lot of pain as she limped up the stairs into a massive estate, not even complaining when he moved in to help her. 

Daniel led them to a lavish living room before stopping and gesturing toward a sofa. “You can wait here, miss.” 

“Why?” She asked with a sigh, as if she was too tired to really care about the answer but her stubbornness demanded that she voice it. 

“Your brother has a private meeting to attend.” Daniel replied in a no nonsense tone. He wouldn’t be brooking any argument from her. 

“I’ll try to make it quick.” Naoto said as he eased her down onto the sofa. “Then we’ll get you checked out and try to find you some pain killers.”  

“A medical attendant will be along shortly to attend to your sister’s needs.” Daniel answered. 

He glanced at the other agent who merely arched an eyebrow, as if asking just who the hell he thought his hosts were to leave a girl in pain on their sofa. “Right.” He said, giving Kallen’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Back soon, promise.” 

“I told you before, your promises aren’t worth shit.” She grumbled, but flopped back onto the couch to wait it out. All in all, she was being remarkably more pliable than he’d been expecting. 

“You’re with me then.” Daniel said, nodding toward the door. 

Naoto nodded and fell into step beside him as the man led him further into the estate. There was, surprisingly, still a lot of activity going on at this time of night. People passed them in the corridors, talking on cellphones or rushing with folders tucked under their arms. The further in they went, however, the more quiet it became. When they finally stopped it was in an empty corridor in a wing of the building that had been completely devoid of other people. 

Daniel knocked twice and waited for a response before opening up the door and ushering him inside. Lelouch was seated behind a desk that was obviously not his own if the photo of a middle-aged Japanese man and his family on the desk was any indication. Naoto bowed respectfully and the door closed behind him, leaving him alone with the Prime Minister’s son. 

Silence reigned for a moment. It was the awkward, heavy kind that left him feeling like he was suffocating. He breathed in deeply and focused on remaining composed, even as his ears felt like they were ringing in the silence. 

“So.” Lelouch finally said, voice sharp and disapproving. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Naoto.” 

That wasn’t quite true. Of course Lelouch had been expecting him. He just hadn’t been expecting that Naoto would suddenly up and abandon his duties to come north.

“I’m resigning my position.” He said firmly. “I quit.” 

“You can’t quit.” Lelouch said with a frown. 

“I’m sorry, but I need to. It’s -” 

“You’re not listening to me, Naoto.” Lelouch said, and repeated himself more slowly. “You _can’t_ quit.” 

Naoto paused, gaze running over his employer rapidly but he couldn’t get a read on him beyond the basic indicators of fatigue and stress. He had no idea what the man in front of him was thinking or feeling. It was off-putting since that was usually his strong suit. 

“You know too much.” Lelouch continued after a moment. “At the very most, I could give you a twelve hour head start before I would be forced to send someone after you. Understand that it’s out of my hands. There’s nothing you can do to alter this outcome.” 

He grit his teeth, not quite sure if he believed that. Lelouch was a son of the Prime Minister. He carried the Kururugi name and that could move mountains if he it wanted to. But on the other hand, Lelouch was obviously half-Britannian and he looked more Britannian than Japanese. He tried to imagine what it must be like for the younger man to operate here while knowing that he looked like an enemy, or what it would have been like if Naoto had come out looking more Japanese than Britannian. It would have been impossible to accomplish anything. 

“I would never talk. I would never betray Japan.” He growled through grit teeth. “It’s not like I’m trying to run away from my duties. But I have family obligations that need to come first.” 

“You gave up your obligations to your family when you signed on with me, remember? I told you to abandon them and you did.” Lelouch said. 

“I can’t.” He said, voice tight. He hadn’t planned for this. He’d known Lelouch wouldn’t like it, but he’d never thought that he would actively prevent Naoto from resigning. And it hadn’t occurred to him that he’d have hired goons and possible assassins after him if he left. 

Lelouch’s expression turned hard, eyes narrowing into an icy glare. “If you go back to Tokyo right now, I’ll pretend I never saw you and we can continue as we always have.” 

Naoto let out a frustrated laugh, “And what am I supposed to do with my sister? Send her back to her abuser? Just pretend I don’t see it now for the sake of my cover? Or watch helplessly as she runs away and gets brought back time and time again by my father’s men? Tell me.” 

Lelouch was quiet for a moment, a frown pulling at his lips before he answered. “Leave her here.” 

Naoto laughed again. “So she can be abused by the people in the streets instead? So she can be denied work and her education just because she looks like a Britannian?”

“Leave her _with me._ ” Lelouch clarified, hands folded together on the top of the desk as he stared Naoto down. 

Naoto felt every muscle in his body tense as his heart leaped into his throat. Oh shit. What had he just done? Stupid, stupid, Naoto. What had he been thinking?

“You’re meaning as a hostage?” He hissed, voice rising in anger. “To use as leverage over me? To keep me on my leash?” 

“Do I need leverage over you, Naoto?” Lelouch asked harshly. “Do I need it to keep you on track? If I need it, I _will_ use it. But if I don’t, then she may live here comfortably under my care, protected by my people, and will have more than even you could offer her.” 

“You’d take her in?” Naoto laughed mirthlessly. “You’re hardly even older than her. She’s not just some puppy you can feed twice a day and take for walks every once in a while. She’s a grown woman and she has her schooling she needs to finish and dreams she wants to accomplish and fuck, I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” 

Lelouch remained quiet throughout the tirade and the awkward silence that followed. Naoto paced quietly for a moment as he thought through his options, but Lelouch had him by the balls and they both knew it. He sighed and slumped defeatedly into the seat across from Lelouch’s.

“If you hurt her . . .” He began, then straightened up and recovered his body language, making himself as imposing as he could. “I don’t care who you are, if you hurt Kallen, I’ll fucking kill you. You got that?” 

“Perfectly.” Lelouch replied. 

He grit his teeth. He couldn’t believe this was happening. The whole god damned day had just gone from bad to worse to fucking hell in a handbasket. 

“And I don’t want her involved in the war. At all. Okay?” 

“Your sister will remain a civilian.” Lelouch assured him. 

“And she has to finish her schooling.” He prompted. 

“Obviously.” Lelouch said. “Shall I make sure she eats all of her vegetables as well?” 

Naoto glared at the sarcasm, but said nothing. 

“Will you return to Tokyo and continue your assignment?” Lelouch asked. 

He nodded mutely. 

“That includes maintaining your cover as the Stadtfeld heir. It includes acting as the beloved scion of the Stadtfeld family; the favoured son of your father _and_ your step-mother. Can you do it?” Lelouch demanded. 

Naoto tensed at the thought. Now that he knew what had been happening to Kallen for god knows how long, could he really look that woman in the face and continue with the lie? He’d never liked her, but he’d never loathed her like this before either. Could he pretend he hadn’t seen the bruises left on Kallen and keep on like nothing had happened?

He would have to. There were no other options. 

“Yes.” 

Lelouch nodded sharply. “Good.” 

  
  


***

  
  


Kallen fidgeted in the room she’d been left in. She hurt everywhere. It hurt to breath and talk especially, or if she moved the wrong way and twinged her bruised ribs, or if she walked anywhere even despite the pain killers the attendant had given her. The bitch had really gone over the deep end this time. If it hadn’t been for Alice hauling the psycho off of her, she might have actually been strangled to death. 

She got a bit of vindictive pleasure from the thought of how that would have _really_ ruined the Stadtfeld name. Domestic homicide. That was assuming, of course, that they wouldn’t have found some way to sweep it under the rug.

She sighed and leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. How long had it been since Naoto left? There wasn’t a clock in this room that she could see and she’d forgotten her watch and her phone at home.

She frowned at the thought of her brother. She didn’t know what to think of him at the moment. She wasn’t exactly sure where all of this fraternal protectiveness was coming from, like he could single-handedly save her from all of her troubles. He hadn’t given a shit about her in years. He’d given up on her except for the most basic social niceties that were expected. 

And she’d just been waiting and longing for the day when he’d give up on those too and forget he had a sister at all. Then she could forget she had such a craven, traitorous sibling and get on with her life. 

But he’d rescued her from home and the first place he’d decided to take her was Hokkaido. Not France or Germany or to the Britannian homeland. He’d taken her to the Japanese. For her sake? For his? And apparently he had a friend here. 

She jumped when the door to her room suddenly opened, then winced as a lightning strike of pain shot through her. Naoto was back. He looked a little paler than he had going in and was carrying himself rigidly. Not a good meeting then. She glanced to his companion and froze. 

Of course. Only Naoto could come all the way to Hokkaido to call upon a fucking Britannian. She should have figured when she’d seen the driver earlier. The boy was probably about the same age as she was, with dark hair and classically Britannian features. This was Naoto’s friend?

“Good evening.” The Britannian greeted, his gaze roving over her and cataloguing her various injuries in a way that made her feel completely naked. 

“Hi.” She said awkwardly as she painfully pushed herself to her feet. She shot a glare at Naoto. 

The stranger arched an eyebrow at the reaction then smirked. “You haven’t told her anything, have you?” 

“I told you I’d never talk.” Naoto growled. 

“Then allow me to talk for you. My name is Kururugi Lelouch. My adopted father is the Prime Minister of Japan.” The boy said. 

“What?” She blurted in surprise. This was some kind of joke, right?

“Your brother has been working for me for the past two and a half years as an undercover agent for the Japanese Intelligence Agency.” Lelouch continued. 

“What?” She said again, though it was with an undercurrent of panic and dread. “You’re joking, right?” She said, gaze darting to Naoto who was staring at Lelouch in surprise. 

“It’s not a joke.” Naoto said slowly, “But why are you telling her this, Lelouch-sama?” 

Not a joke. Naoto had never been a traitor. He’d been working for the Japanese this entire time while it was _she_ that had been living in the lap of Britannian luxury and not doing a single thing to help out the cause. And she’d had the gall to call him a traitor. To call him a coward when he was risking his life every day to bring Britannian secrets to the Japanese. 

She felt tears in her eyes as she stared at her brother. “You idiot. What have you been doing? Why didn’t you -” Why hadn’t he told her? The answer was obvious. He’d been ordered not to. Still, even knowing that, she was more upset with herself than she was with Lelouch. “Why did you put up with it? Why didn’t you just tell me to shut up? You stupid, fucking idiot.”

Naoto laughed sadly as he watched her fall apart at the seams before pulling her into a tight hug. “Just did what I had to. Sorry I lied, K-chan.” He said into her hair, using a pet name she hadn’t heard since he’d left to become a spy. 

Why hadn’t she seen it? Why hadn’t she suspected something like this? It had been such a dramatic shift in character when he’d come back to the house. She should have picked up that he was acting. She’d _worshipped_ Naoto. She’d known him better than anyone. She should have seen it. 

Instead she’d immediately condemned him as a traitor.

“Is it dangerous?” She asked. She couldn’t really picture him out there dodging bullets and explosions like a James Bond film. 

“Nah. Pretty tame, actually. Just a lot of talking with politicians and business men, skimming off the top of Stadtfeld Industries profits a bit. You know, boring things that nobles do.” He answered, leaning back to send her a small smile. 

“So all of Father’s lessons are handy for something after all.” She mused. 

Naoto chuckled. “Yeah.” 

Kallen smiled slightly before she caught sight of Lelouch who was standing quietly to the side, witnessing as they reconnected for the first time in years. The smile slipped off her face slowly. If he was Naoto’s boss, then he had no reason to suddenly tell her Naoto’s big secret. So why had he done it?

“So what are we here for, then?” She asked suddenly. 

Naoto paused then cleared his throat awkwardly. “Lelouch-sama has agreed to let you say here.” Naoto said. 

Her gaze darted back to Lelouch, scrutinizing him. Was that the reason why he’d told her? Because he was going to separate them and make sure she wasn’t a threat to her brother’s cover. “But we’ve only just reconciled.” She protested. 

“I know.” Naoto said, ruffling her hair lightly. “Trust me, I know. It sucks. But I was in the middle of an important assignment and I have to get back to it.” 

She swallowed back her counter-argument. How could she hold him back from that after all the criticisms that she’d uttered over the last few years? He was doing something worthwhile and she was just being selfish. 

“Okay.” She said, nodding sharply. “Just . . . stay safe.” 

“Always.” He promised her with a smile. “Phone me if you need anything, or if anything happens, or just . . . just phone me, okay? If you need me for anything at all.” 

“Sure.” She nodded, wondering what he was being so concerned about. She glanced at Lelouch from the corner of her eye, noting the almost wistful look on his face. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.” 

Naoto nodded in response and stepped back from her. 

“Here.” Lelouch said, holding out a slip of paper to her brother. “Your travel details. I should have you back in Tokyo before morning, but exercise caution. I’ll be sending the agent who drove you here with you for added protection. Maintain your cover at all costs, Naoto, even at the cost of lost grasp on our target. You’re too well placed to squander.” 

Naoto glanced down at the paper and read the details before stuffing it into his pocket and nodding. “Got it.” 

“Until next time then.” Lelouch nodded, shaking hand with Naoto. 

“Next time.” Naoto agreed before turning back to her again and waving slightly. “Don’t forget to call me if you need me, Kallen. I love you. Stay safe. And I’m sorry for leaving you in that hell hole for so long.” 

“It’s okay.” She assured him, fighting back the tears that she wanted to let fall. She didn’t want him to feel guilty about doing something good. “Go to work.” 

He nodded, then turned and headed out the door, leaving her alone with Lelouch. They eyed each other awkwardly for a moment before Lelouch sent her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry to split you two up, but Naoto does important work for me.” 

“It’s okay.” She said again, then shifted and winced at the pain that shot through her ankle. The medic that had looked at it earlier had said that it wasn’t broken, just sprained. Even so, it hurt like a bitch. 

“You must be exhausted. And let’s get you off of that leg.” Lelouch said before reaching forward to offer a hand to support her. “Will you allow me to help you to your room, Miss Stadtfeld?”

“Kouzuki.” She said quickly instead of answering. “I don’t want anything to do with the Stadtfeld name anymore.”

Lelouch nodded his head in acquiescence, then effortlessly switched languages to Japanese. “Kouzuki-sama,” He said softly and she allowed him to steady some of her weight off of her injured ankle. “Let’s see you to your room.” 


End file.
